


Where My Home Lies

by dazylein



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Split
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:38:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazylein/pseuds/dazylein
Summary: Years after the split, Ryan still isn't over hating Brendon and wants absolutely nothing to do with him. He's build a new life for himself and is now back in LA to finally fulfill his longtime dream of opening an animal shelter where the animals are loved and treated well. But of course, LA is just small enough of a city for Brendon to just keep showing up and he bounces right back into Ryan's life.
This is such an inaccurate summary, but I suck at writing them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo :) So Brendon's kind of a pretentious ass in this story and his marriage with Sarah isn't very genuine either. Sarah and Ryan are both beyond bitchy and there's flashbacks in the later chapters to the good 'ol days. Also, I know the summary makes it sound like the story is written from Ryan's perspective, but it's actually third person from Brendon's point of view.

“I can't” Brendon exclaimed, “Fuck I can't do this anymore!” Frustrated as he was, Brendon left the room, a confused Dallon chasing after him.  
“Jesus Christ, Brendon! You can't just leave!” Dallon yelled, but Brendon ignored him.  
Fuck all of them, Brendon thought, he was the fucking star of the band.  
“What band?” The tiny voice in his head asked, the one that Brendon pretended not to hear.  
“You're alone in this and Dallon is just going to leave you like everyone else has if you keep acting like a dick,” the voice continued to nag Brendon’s conscience.  
“Fuck, I need a drink.” He muttered to himself and left the recording studio. He turned around to check if Dallon was still following him, but the hallway was vacant except for him. Brendon tried not to care.

He finally succeeded thirty minutes later in a rundown bar, alone on a shitty stool with a half empty whiskey bottle in his hand.  
The door to the bar opened and Brendon decided to diagnose himself as a hallucinating drunk when he saw who had stepped inside.  
The barkeeper had come out from the back of the shop at the sound of the creaking front door.  
“Ryan,” he said, greeting Brendon's apparition like he saw it too.  
"Hey man," came the reply.  
Brendon stared. Too drunk to care how much he still cared. About Ryan. About what happened. Fuck. How many bottles did he need to start feeling indifferent around this boy?  
Ryan finally looked at Brendon. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, then Ryan walked past him, past the counter, and then Ryan Ross was hidden inside the backroom, and had managed yet again to disappear from Brendon’s longing stare.  
The barkeeper was about to follow him, but Brendon stopped him just in time.  
“Cn i get nther boh-dl of diss?" He pointed at the whiskey with a wobbling finger.  
The barkeeper shook his head. “I think you're better off going home, buddy."  
Brendon nodded hazily and slid off his stool as gracefully as he possibly could in his current state. After he found his balance, he made his way towards the backroom.  
“Woah, woah, woah. What do you think you’re doing?" The barkeeper asked him and held onto Brendon’s shoulders with a tight grip.  
"Going home," Brendon slurred.  
He thought of Ryan who must be waiting for him behind the closed door.  
Next thing he knew, Brendon was thrown out onto the street by the barkeeper.

He flopped his ass down on the sidewalk. It didn’t hurt to sit. It seldom did nowadays.  
A minute later he was vomiting on the step to the bar door.  
A nice parting gift for Ryan, he thought grimly, feeling himself sobering up surprisingly fast.  
A few minutes later, Brendon successfully managed to hail a cab. Unlucky for him though, the eyes of the taxi driver wandered to the puddle of puke and before Brendon could get a hold of the door handle, the cab had driven passed him already. Cursing constantly with every step, Brendon started walking. He had no idea where to. He was tempted to find another bar. Get shitfaced again, get kicked out again, throw up again, repeat it all again, minus seeing Ryan.  
His phone rang.  
“Sarah, hi.” His voice was hoarse.  
“Brendon, where the fuck are you?” He held the phone away from his ear. “Zack and the band and I have been worried sick about you!” She practically shouted and Brendon really considered to just hang up. But he was not drunk enough anymore to act like a complete asshole and Sarah did not deserve the shit he was currently giving her.  
“Sorry,” Brendon muttered.  
He thought about his words. He should have said them to Ryan.  
“Jesus Christ, Brendon!” Sarah screeched again. And maybe she spoke in a normal tone, but Brendon was half drunk half hungover, and Sarah’s voice hurt. It sounded too high pitched in Brendon’s ears.  
Sarah continued to rant about how she hadn’t agreed to marry a goddamn drunk, how the bottle hadn’t been in any of their vows. Brendon smiled sardonically, remembering the vows. How amazing it was to see an entire paragraph’s meaning change by simply putting an s in front of certain words.  
“God fucking dammit Brendon! I haven’t even had lunch yet and you’re already looming around in a shitty bar.”  
Hey, it’s 5 pm somewhere, Brendon wanted to remark, but bit his tongue. He should not have told Sarah about going into the bar in the first place.  
“I’m sorry,” he forced himself to apologize again, hoping she would shut up so he could hang up. “I’ll see you later.” He added when Sarah didn’t reply.  
A second later his phone was thrown against the nearest brick wall.  
Brendon watched it shatter to pieces. Perks of being rich, he mused, and successfully managed to grab a cab this time.  
"Laney's music store," he instructed the driver.

The store was filled with guitars, some pianos and other instruments were in the back corner too, but mostly it was just guitars.  
Brendon wanted to break them all.  
He quickly found the model he was looking for: A brand new, completely untouched Gibson.  
He grabbed its neck tightly, not using his imagination at all to pretend it was another type of neck he was currently strangling.  
“Are you looking for anything in specific, sir?” The guy at the counter asked with a plastered smile.  
Brendon ignored him as he slammed the guitar on the counter.  
“This is an excellent guitar; you’ve got good taste.” The guy's bubbly voice gave Brendon a headache.  
And no, he wanted to argue, _he_ didn’t have great taste. Not in guitars anyways.  
Brendon paid and left the store without so much of a thank you to the overfriendly cashier.  
He began to walk the streets of LA until he was lost- which, truth be told, did not take him long.  
He found a brick wall to lean against and started stringing his newly purchased item.  
“And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, is all that I can see,” Brendon sang softly. He wasn’t singing for attention, seeing as the alley was deserted. And so what if he was singing Tom Waits’ songs about the moon. It didn’t mean anything. _He_ didn’t mean anything. Brendon had moved on, gotten married, gotten two dogs because fuck Ryan and his one dog, Brendon had two.

He left the guitar on the street as he went home. He contemplated whether or not he should stop by a liquor store, but then Sarah would get mad again. And Brendon lived a happy life where disappointed wives did not exist.  
Except when he arrived at his house Sarah was not there. Neither were the dogs. Brendon found himself in an empty home.  
He read the note Sarah left him with indifference. He did not care whether she was taken the dogs out for a run or not. He cared about the dogs missing, of course. He needed someone to cuddle with right now.  
Instead he went to his laptop, clicked indigo mode on his browser, and then started to play The Young Veins album, while shamelessly stalking Ryan’s Instagram account. Dog videos, concert videos, random shit photos…. finally, there was a picture of Ryan in his hockey uniform and fuck fuck fuck. Brendon quickly shut down his laptop.  
Fuck Ryan and his indefinite hotness. And fuck all those hockey jocks that got to share a changing room with him. Brendon did not even want to think about what it would be like to play against Ryan on the ice and getting roughly pushed around by him.  
“No, no, no, no,” Brendon told himself out loud. He was done jerking off to memories of Ryan.  
Brendon ran like a fucking gorilla was chasing him to the pool. He jumped into the cool water with his clothes on. Maybe he could join a swim club, Ryan was not the only one that could have fun, sporty friends and when the fuck had he started competing against Ryan again?  
Oh yeah right, he realized grimly, because it was better to trash talk and hate Ryan than divorce Sarah and live a sad and lonely life full of regret, sorrow, and pining. 

Brendon remained inside the pool until Sarah came back. She seemed to have calmed down a bit and he was glad for it. His day had been shitty enough without Sarah’s constant complaining.  
Zack stopped by their house a while later and all three ended up playing video games for the rest of the day.  
Sarah fell asleep on his shoulder, Zack started snoring on the couch, and Brendon had nightmares about Ryan’s face sticking out of a guitar neck that was in Brendon’s hand, while he could hear Sarah’s chants of 'I do want to marry you, I do, I do, I do."

Brendon was happy to wake up and escape the dream. He smelled bacon coming from the kitchen and when he followed the scent, he found Zack sitting at their table reading the newspaper.  
"Hey, did you know they’re opening another animal shelter downtown?" Zack asked him and Brendon leaned over his shoulder to read the article himself. But Brendon did not have his glasses on and the words were all fuzzy, so he gave up trying.  
"We should check it out sometime,” Sarah suggested as she flipped the fizzling bacon in the pan.  
Brendon hummed in agreement and walked around in his house in search for his glasses.  
"Aha!” Brendon exclaimed once he found them on the living room table. He put them on victoriously, appreciated the sense of seeing, and went back to the kitchen to eat his breakfast.  
“Breakfast of champions,” Brendon stated complimentary as Sarah handed him a plate. She laughed and Zack said something about Brendon being a pretentious ass. Brendon gave him the finger.  
And only then did he remember the day before. Prior to yesterday, he had imagined a billion scenarios of running into Ryan again. He had naïvely assumed that he had covered at least every possible scene. But getting smashed at a rundown bar in the middle of the day and Ryan wordlessly passing by him had never crossed his mind as a possible situation. Brendon’s face turned red just thinking about it. Not to mention how tight his pants had felt when he’d stalked Ryan’s Instagram.  
Brendon blamed the alcohol. He always got horny and gayer when he was slightly tipsy. Because Brendon had definitely still been drunk at that point yesterday.  
But this morning he was sober. A sober, happy _husband_. He gave Sarah a big smooch on the lips, then grabbed Boggart and began kissing the dog like the devoted family man he was. 

A week passed and apparently the new animal shelter Zack had mentioned was becoming a big thing in Los Angeles. They had not opened the business yet - it would take at least two more weeks according to the media- but everyone was looking forward to seeing it. They approached a new perspective with this animal shelter, an article on the internet read, something that provided the animals with all the love and caring they really needed. Brendon was genuinely excited.  
Him, Sarah, Zack, Dallon and the rest of Weekes’ family had already agreed to check it out together.  
Like always, Dallon had generously forgiven him for the tantrum he had thrown, though they hadn’t been back in the studio together since.

“So what are we doing on Sunday?” Sarah asked him over dinner one night.  
Brendon gave her questioning look.  
“Ohhh, playing mysterious, huh?” Sarah laughed, “Don’t worry, I like surprises.”  
She winked at him, and thanks to all her flirting, Brendon made the connection: Valentines day.  
He was sure Sarah did not foresee them to do nothing special at all on the national couples’ day. But he was also sure she wouldn’t like _that_ as a surprise.  
“You just have to wait and see,” he smiled mysteriously at her, hoping she would buy it and think he’d actually come up with a plan beforehand this year.  
Sarah send him satisfied grin. Even if Sarah usually preferred simple dates, even she probably imagined them going out to some fancy restaurant and then taking a romantic walk on the beach and expected him to overbear her with flowers and chocolates, while denoting his undying love for her under the stars.  
Girls were hard to please that way.  
Or maybe him and Ryan were the only people on this planet that seemed content with spending Valentine’s day on the couch, watching The Sound of Music, and munching on delivery pizza.  
Even Dallon seemed more stressed out than usual, now that Brendon thought about it. Valentines day was just fucking overrated. Still, he’d better make those reservations for him and Sarah. She had put up with so much of his shit over the past few years, she deserved a greenhouse filled with roses and a castle made out of chocolate.  
There’s an idea, Brendon thought and called up the nearest greenhouse in L.A. 

“So where are you taking Sarah out to?” Zack asked him. The street was littered with Valentine’s flyers and heart-shaped cards  
Brendon gave him a calculating glance. “You’re not asking me because you’re spying for her, right?”  
Zack blushed and shook his head. “No, I’m genuinely interested about your love life.”  
God, Zack was a worse liar than he was.  
“What’s uhm… Dallon doing then?” Zack said, and it was even more obvious now how much he tried to sound casual, like Brendon had not just caught him lying to his face.  
Brendon shrugged a response. Dallon and him had more important things to talk about than fucking Valentine’s day.  
“Why don’t you call him up and ask him for yourself?” Brendon suggested. “Nag him for a while, instead of me.”  
Zack snorted like Brendon had just offended him. And maybe he had, but Brendon could not bother to care about his friend’s feelings, when his own where the old wreckage of a broken rollercoaster.

Brendon smirked as he admired his reflection in the full length mirror by the hall. He took his phone out of his black dress pants to check the time.  
“How long does it take to put on a dress?” He muttered to himself because Sarah was still upstairs, and had been for the past hour.

“Ready to go?” Sarah asked as she finally descended the stairs. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she added and kissed him gently on the lips.  
“Don’t worry about it,” Brendon assured her. “I've been waiting for you all my life.”  
Brendon winked suggestively and they both started laughing. Brendon was probably the least romantic person in the world, and whenever he wanted to say something cute, it always came out sounding beyond cheesy. But fuck it, he wasn’t a poet and they both got a good laugh whenever he tried to be one.  
“So where are we going?” Sarah asked him, still grinning.  
“You’ll see- Oh, before I forget!” Brendon quickly stormed to the kitchen. He grabbed the roses of the counter and came back with a dazzling smile.  
“Happy Valentine’s day, babe.” Sarah's smile dropped when she held the bundle  
“They're fake,” she noted, trying her best to sound neutral, but Brendon noticed it anyway.  
“Yes, they are,” Brendon confirmed, nodding. He took Sarah's hand and led her to his car.  
They drove in silence. Sarah turned on the radio, which was playing Ed Sheeran. Brendon switched the station and Frank Sinatra came on.  
“Stay little Valentine stay, each day is Valentine’s day,” Brendon sang softly along and Sarah turned the volume down so she could hear her husband’s voice better.  
The song ended and Brendon stopped the car in a deserted parking lot.  
“Please tell me, you didn’t bring us here so we can make out in the car,” Sarah whined, straightening her dress.  
“I thought a little teenage romance was exactly what you wanted?” Brendon gave her a confused look which Sarah returned with a bitchy one. “But... You gave me all kinds of hints the past few days,” Brendon tried to defend himself  
Now it was Sarah's turn to look confused. “I never gave you any clues like that.”  
“Oh,” Brendon exclaimed. “Well, good thing I have a Plan B then.”  
He unbuckled his seat belt and reach over to give his wife a big smooch on her lips.  
“I love you,” he whispered.  
“I love you too,” Sarah automatically replied and kissed him back.  
His hand traveled down her thigh and underneath the fabric of her short dress. Sarah noticed and slapped his hand away.  
“Hey! What happened to Plan B?” She inquired with a laugh.  
“It was worth another try.” Brendon smirked and got out of the car.  
“M'lady,” he bowed as he opened the door for his wife. Sarah took his hand and together they walked to the greenhouse.  
“I hope this makes up for the fake roses,” Brendon told her as Sarah’s eyes glistered by the sight of the hundreds of plants in front of them.  
“Brendon, this is beyond beautiful,” she admitted, not tearing her eyes off of the view.  
“Yeah, well, I thought to myself, why bother going to the florist to buy a dozen or so roses that were going to start to welt in a few weeks anyway, when I could give you a hundred flowers that will continue to live and grow by the time Valentine's day comes around again next year?”  
Sarah hugged him tightly and he inhaled her scent. She smelled like the rest of the greenhouse: Sweet and natural.

Brendon could not fall asleep that night. He should be exhausted from the sex he and Sarah had had when they got back from the greenhouse. But his mind would not shut up.  
He kept thinking about stupid little things, like how he used to be a nervous wreck the week leading up to Valentine’s day. How every time he had watched Ryan scribble something down, he had wondered if it was about him. How he once spent an entire hour in front of a Valentine cards stand, contemplating whether or not to buy one, debating whether or not Ryan preferred a serious, romantic, or a funny card. He never found out.  
And Brendon was left tossing in his king sized bed with his wife sleeping soundly beside him. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and Brendon could see the outline of the door. He got up and left the room.  
He wandered downstairs, carefully, so he wouldn’t miss a step and break his neck. Because Brendon felt miserable enough as it was, he honestly did not need to end up in the hospital to further prove what shitty luck he had.  
He reached the music room without a scratch or bruise. Penny Lane had followed him and Brendon closed the door quietly behind them. His fingers hovered over the piano while Penny jumped up and sat beside him on the stool. She rested her tiny head on Brendon's right thigh, and fell asleep shortly after when Brendon started hitting the keys.  
At first, he only played a few chords and made up melodies. Then the rhythm began to sound familiar and he recognized the song he was unintentionally playing. Brendon could not help himself then, but to sing the lyrics:  
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

Brendon played until the first beams of sunlight made their way into the music room. Only with the sun hitting his eyes became Brendon aware of how much time had passed. He had stayed up all night covering plaintive Beatles songs. On Valentine’s Day. God, he was worse than a sulky, lovesick teenager. As he tried to get up from the stool, he woke up Penny. His dog barked and ran to the door. Brendon let her out and decided to follow and take his pets for a morning walk, he probably needed the fresh air more than they did.

“Dallon called,” Sarah informed him when he came back to the house.  
“What did he want?”  
“Just wanted to make sure that you were up and ready for practice at noon.”  
“Oh shit! Right, we have practice.”  
Brendon was so not looking forward to going to the studio. His voice was a bit strained from singing all night and while taking the dogs out, he’d called up Zack and made lunch plans.  
He texted his friend and turned their lunch into supper, which Brendon knew would ultimately end up with him and Zack getting shitfaced at some sleazy bar. Oh well, he’d planned to get drunk tonight anyways, going out with Zack just made it look less pathetic on the outside.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, we're still set on going to the animal shelter tomorrow, right?” Dallon asked Brendon over coffee. “The kids have been nagging me about it for the past few weeks.”  
“Of course we are,” Brendon assured him. “Are you planning on adopting one?”  
Dallon shook his head, “Two children in the house are already enough work for me.”  
Brendon laughed and was relieved that he was not a dad. Well, as far as he knew anyway.

“What are you wearing?” Brendon asked Sarah in disbelief the following morning, “It's an animal shelter, not a fashion show.”  
“Yes, but I want to look cute,” Sarah quipped and spun around in her short summer dress. “The cuter I am, the less cute the puppies will seem to you, and you won’t be too tempted to adopt the whole shelter.”  
Brendon laughed, Sarah knew him too well. He went into the kitchen to make coffee for them both, knowing the Weekes’ family, they would need the caffeine in their system.

By the time they arrived at the shelter, the place was already packed to the brim with little children and I-fight-for-animal-rights people. Some reporters seemed to be present too, and it took a few minutes for Brendon, Zack, and Sarah to find the Weekes in the mass. Thank God, Dallon was so tall or they would have never spotted him.  
“Daddy, daddy can we please take him home with us?” Dallon’s children pleaded and even his wife gave Dallon a hopeful look. Dallon's pretty face was half panicked, half smitten.  
Brendon took a moment to admire the dog in Knox's arm. He was super duper cute and if Dallon did not want him, Brendon's place was big enough for another dog… or two.  
He felt Zack tug on his arm. "Look they have cats too!" Zack pointed at a door with a sign that said "Cats". Brendon regretfully left the dog room and followed Zack.  
Just like all the other rooms, the cat room had all the animals running around in the open. Like the media had promised about this shelter, it was a new cage-free approach and the garden was big enough to let the pets out whenever they wanted. Brendon was torn between adopting them all or just moving into the shelter himself. 

Three and a half hours later the group finally forced themselves out of the business. Knox and Amelie were arguing over who could hold the leash of their new puppy and Zack's smile reminded Brendon of a rainbow, as Zack held tightly onto the transport box where a kitten was constantly meowing in. Brendon still clutched Sarah's hand tightly, worried that he would run back into the store and grab a dozen puppies and take them all home.  
While they walked to their respected cars, they noticed many other families with dogs and cats on their arm. The animal shelter was, indeed, a success.

“Hey Penny, hey Bogart!”, Brendon eagerly called his dogs when he and Sarah finally arrived home. The dogs automatically ran to Brendon and the four of them played together for a while. None of the dogs in the shelter could compare to the ones Brendon already had in his arms.  
Sarah and Brendon fell asleep, with two dogs cuddled up between them

“Brendon, have you seen my sunglasses?” Sarah yelled and Brendon told her that he hadn’t. He did not bother looking for them either. Sarah would find them eventually.  
"There they are!" she exclaimed triumphantly. “We’ll probably be back by Monday if the weather stays nice." Sarah said and pecked him on the lips.  
"Did you pack enough dog food with you?” Brendon asked her as he ruffled Penny's fur.  
"Yes, and if not we can always buy some more. I told you, there’s a convenient store a few miles away from the cottage"  
They heard a car honking outside.  
"That must be Chelsea." Sarah smiled her goodbye smile and with both the dogs on the leash, she left the house and Brendon found himself all alone. For three days Sarah would be at Chelsea’s cottage by the beach, and he was temporarily a free man.  
A free bored man as it turned out an hour later.  
"C’mon Dallon we never watch any games together anymore," he begged Dallon over the phone.  
"I told you, I need to take the Unnamed dog to the vet for a check up."  
Apparently, Knox and Amelie had been fighting constantly over what to name their new family member and, for now, everyone just called him the Unnamed dog.  
Brendon didn’t bother calling up Zack. Zack was busy playing cat lady and Brendon, as much as he loved animals, was sick of hearing Zack mimicking kitten meows.  
Brendon scrolled through his phone contacts. It wasn't that Brendon didn’t have anyone to hang out with, he did have friends beside Dallon and Zack, but they required more socializing and politeness. Brendon was too exhausted to put in the effort.  
I could sleep, Brendon realized after he had beaten the entire Batman game on his Xbox, sleep in a gigantic bed all by myself.  
Brendon grabbed Sarah's pillow, feeling luxurious as he placed it on top of his own. But not having another pillow beside his own pillow felt weird. It seemed awfully quiet in the house too. Brendon wouldn't be able to sleep tonight; not sober anyways.  
He jumped out of the bed and tapped into kitchen. There was no beer left in the fridge. Sarah must have taken it with her to the cottage.  
Brendon sighed and tapped over to their wine cabinet. He grabbed a bottle, but immediately put it back. Wine was boring. He wanted a fancy drink, Brendon decided, and grabbed his coat.  
He drove around aimlessly. There was this one bar he really liked, but too many people went there and Brendon was not dressed up enough to feel confident going there by himself. He drove past their recording studio and remembered the bar he had seen Ryan in.  
And Brendon became aware of just how drunk he had been, seeing as he could not even remember the street name of the bar. He drove slowly and his eyes caught sight of the animal shelter sign. He was surprised they were still open.  
Brendon remembered how lonely his house felt, especially without his pets. Maybe he could go in and play with some of the dogs for a while. He parked his car and strolled into the building. 

No one else seemed to be in this late; Brendon being the only human in the room. The puppies greeted him with a love that the person who would find the cure for cancer would deserve. Some jumped up his legs while others just wiggled their tails excitedly. God, they were all just so cute.  
"Excuse me," a voice behind him spoke. "We're actually closed now."  
“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Brendon turned around to face the man and gave him an apologetic smile.  
"It's alright," the guy said and it was obvious how forced his politeness was.  
"We need more cat food, Drake," Ryan froze in between the cat door, an empty bag of dried cat food in his hand. Fur was all over his black jeans and shirt, and some tiny scratches were on his arms and hands. Brendon acknowledged this all in one glance. Years of checking out Ryan whenever he could spare a second had definitely paid off.  
‘Hey’, Brendon was about to say, but as he opened his mouth, he remembered the last time he had seen Ryan. Drunk and pathetic. He was not leaving a great impression now either, with his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes popping out. And fuck, why hadn’t he bothered to at least wear jeans instead of sweatpants? Ryan must think Brendon was a homeless drunk.  
"Yeah, we're getting pretty low on dog food too." Drake mentioned, oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room.  
"Okay good, I'm gonna go get some." Ryan hastily said and darted for the exit.  
"You don’t have to go right now!" Drake tried to call after him, but Ryan was already out the door.  
"Well, I’d better get going," Brendon waved and quickly followed after Ryan.

"Ryan, hold up,” he yelled, and what the fuck had gotten into him? He had sworn to himself, he would never talk to George Ryan fucking Ross III ever again after what had happened.  
Ryan stopped his speed-walking and his (beautiful Bambi) eyes stared at him angrily. Brendon had relied on Ryan at least replying to his call. But Ryan stood mute on the street and Brendon had no idea what to say.  
'I - i didn’t know you worked here," he stuttered. Ask about work, small talk, platonic conversations, his brain ordered. He could do that.  
If Ryan had looked angry before, he now glared at Brendon beyond infuriated. And fuck him for being so stubborn, Brendon had just as much right to be mad at Ryan.  
But he swallowed his pride and smiled at Ryan.  
"Sure, you didn’t know. You just saw me with a gigantic sign that said animal shelter and didn’t make the connection," Ryan spat.  
Brendon looked confused.  
"Oh right. Never mind. You probably don’t even remember seeing me, considering how wasted you were."  
Brendon was ready to defend his case: "That day in that shabby bar? No, I remember you."  
"Shabby? You fucking prick!"  
In his rage Ryan had stepped closer to Brendon. Brendon would not have complained, but he was so irritated, and having Ryan in arms’ reach made it hard to focus.  
"Why are you so touchy about this?" Brendon inquired and wow, fantastic word choice there.  
"God, just how much do you even remember?" Ryan sighed. It wasn't a moan, but it was close enough to one. Then again, Ryan practically spoke in moans.  
Brendon told him what he could recall of that day, albeit he skipped the part where he got kicked out and called Ryan his home.  
Ryan shook his head in disbelief. "Well, I’m sorry to tell you that your _shabby_ bar doesn’t exist anymore, so you better find another place if you want to get drunk tonight."  
"What do you mean it doesn’t exist?" Brendon inquired. The bar was after all their initial reunion place. It held sentimental value.  
Ryan made a face that reminded Brendon of the one his old elementary teacher used to make whenever a kid couldn’t understand why 2+2=4.  
"Because we turned it into an animal shelter, you know the one you were just in," Ryan elucidated and Brendon was reminded of the days were Ryan tried to teach him poetry. He would use the exact same tone of voice. Brendon had labelled it the impatient how-the-fuck-do-you-know-not-what-a-metonymy-is voice.  
Ryan carried on explaining, using still that same tone:"When you came in that day, Drake said you looked like shit and he didn’t have the heart to tell you that the bar was already shut down. So while you were getting drunk off your ass on our last bottle of whiskey, we were working on getting the building ready to turn it into the shelter."  
Oh, that made sense, Brendon thought.  
"So, you own the shelter?" He clarified, because if had learned one thing in his marriage with Sarah, it was attentive listening. Clarify, echo, restate- Brendon was a pro.  
"Well it's a partnership, so Drake's the owner too." Ryan blushed a bit, probably remembering all the praise he had gotten for the business so far. God Ryan was so cute.  
"That's awesome," Brendon tried to smile again. If he pretended they were okay, maybe Ryan would eventually lose the murder glare that was still lingering in his eyes.  
"I gotta go get the food," Ryan muttered and broke the awkward silence that had loomed over them for maybe two seconds.  
"Yeah me too," Brendon chimed in.  
"You need cat food?" Ryan asked, the doubt in his voice evident.  
"Well no, I need food for myself "  
"Okay," Ryan turned to leave and Brendon chased after him.  
"Where are you going? The parking lot is the other way," he informed Ryan who shook his head incredulously at Brendon’s statement.  
"There's a superstore right around the corner, I'm not going to take my fucking car."  
Brendon really needed to pay more attention to the businesses in LA; clearly he had no idea where they were. Still, this was better than he had expected. Now he could walk with Ryan to the store _and _go back to the shelter with him, since his car was still parked in the lot.__  
Brendon sped up his pace to catch up with Ryan. Ryan seemed to fasten his steps as well. Swallow you pride, Brendon reminded himself, and ran up to Ryan who gave him the dirtiest look when they started walking side by side.

The moment they entered the store, Ryan headed straight for the cat food. Brendon accompanied him.  
"I need dog food," he explained to Ryan and grabbed a random bag of food.  
Ryan's face softened."Are your dogs okay?”  
"Uhmm ya?" Brendon looked at the bag he was holding: _Dog food for sensitive stomach and skin_. Oops. He quickly put the bag away.  
"No, Bogart and Penny are as healthy as they can be," Brendon said it like a proud dad. "You know, Dallon got a puppy from your shelter," he added, hoping it would perk Ryan's interest  
“Oh, did he actually manage to come to the shelter when it was open?" Ryan remarked sarcastically. "At least you've still got one smart person in Panic."  
He emphasized the last word. Swallow your pride, Brendon told himself again, Ryan insulted you because he's still mad, yelling back won't make him less angry at you.  
"Yeah we all actually went in on the opening day."  
"I didn’t see you."  
"We were there for like three hours. Sarah had to pretty much drag me out of the store."  
Fuck, he had mentioned his wife. Ryan's face hardened.  
“So how _is_ Sarah?”  
Ryan asked full of deride and began walking to the cash carrying a ten-pound bag of pet food in each hand. Brendon assumed the question was rhetorical and followed Ryan down the aisle.  
“Here, let me help.” He said and offered to take the cat food from him. Ryan immediately handed it over and Brendon was surprised by his success. He had thought Ryan would be too proud to let him help carry the food back, maybe even smack him in the face with one. But then Brendon felt the weight of the bag, and fuck, no wonder Ryan had passed it to him so willingly, ten-pounds was fucking heavy.  
His arm ached by the time they reached the cashier. Ryan didn’t look pained. Fuck him, Brendon thought and rubbed his brachium.

"I thought you needed to get groceries?” Ryan asked him when they had left the store and were making their way back to the animal shelter.  
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”  
“When don’t you?” Ryan muttered angrily under his breath, and Brendon knew better than to answer him.  
Ryan was walking too quickly in Brendon’s opinion, who was struggling to keep up again. Fuck Ryan and his long legs. Ryan abruptly stopped in front of the building door and Brendon was glad they had been walking side-by-side, or else he would’ve probably smashed right into Ryan and he didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened if he had.  
“Well, I guess I see you around,” Brendon tried to be polite and handed the cat food back to Ryan. Maybe for once, he and Ryan could part ways on a good note.  
“I hope not,” Ryan ruined Brendon’s hope. His voice had been natural, like he was talking about the weather, like being an ass to Brendon wasn’t something out of the ordinary. “Thanks for carrying the bag,” Ryan added, before he disappeared into the shelter.  
All Brendon wanted to do was go home and snuggle up to one of his dogs, or both, but then he remembered that Sarah had taken them with her and he would be greeted by an empty house, which he would doubtlessly fill with empty bottles.  
Plan B, he thought as he stopped the car in front of a ToysRUs and came out of the store ten minutes later with a gigantic, pink dog stuffed animal.  
Then Brendon realized just how pathetic he was and took a second stop at a liquor store. 


	3. Chapter 3

“And I just can’t look it’s killing meeeeee,” Brendon sang drunkenly to Ryden, his new favorite dog.  
“And taking controooool.”  
They were in the kitchen and Brendon was making pancakes for him and his plush puppy.  
“But it’s just the price I pay, destiny is calling meeeh.”  
Were you supposed to add eggs to the batter? He couldn’t remember.  
“Open up my fucking eyes, cause I’m Mr. Brightside.”  
Oh yes, he was feeling fucking fantastic. Fuck Ryan and his snobby attitude. Brendon didn’t need him.  
“Y’know what I hate about ‘im?” He asked Ryden and placed the toy in his lap, “that he’s so, he’s so…. Fuck, y’know? He’s a fuck, that’s what he is.”  
Brendon giggled and drank more. 

He woke up on the floor, tightly clutching to… what the fuck was that? Oh yeah, Ryden.  
Brendon had to pee, but that would require him to move. He remained laying on the kitchen tiles, remembering the previous night. Once the memories started coming back to him, Brendon ran to the bathroom and puked.  
“Dallon, please, please, please answer your goddamn phone.” Brendon begged. He needed the distraction. Forget Ryan Ross existed.  
Yeah right, Brendon thought, like that was ever going to happen.  
Dallon, of course, did not answer. Brendon went on twitter. Oh, right periscope, that shit existed.  
Perks of being famous, Brendon thought, when you don’t have any friends to talk to, you can always chat with your fans.  
“Hey guys,” Brendon smiled into the camera and was immediately greeted by hundreds of teenage girls.  
“I’m pretty good, I just woke up actually.” It was still so fucking awkward to talk to himself, he probably would never get used to it.  
He read the questions out loud before he even processed what was being asked.  
“Can you sing us a song? No, I went out with a couple friends last night and my voice is still pretty sore.”  
So what if he lied to his devotees? He wasn’t about to admit to the entire world that he got drunk with an enormous sized stuffed animal as his only company.  
“What time is it? Uhhhm, it’s like 11 in the morning right now. Where’s Sarah? Sarah’s at her friend’s cottage with the dogs, yeah I’m all by myself. But it’s cool, it’s fun to have the house by myself.”  
“You should throw a party!” he read out someone’s comment and hey, there’s an idea.  
Except Dallon wouldn’t be there, Zack wouldn’t be there, Sarah wouldn’t be there and Ryan would definitely not be here.  
For a second, Brendon tried to picture Sarah and Ryan at the same party. Who would a drunken Brendon throw himself at? Brendon wished he wouldn’t know the answer.  
He got off periscope and opened up his web browser. “How to get over your ex” Brendon typed into google and clicked on the first link.  
“4 Steps to get over your Ex” The title read.  
_1\. Hook up with someone else_  
He’s tried that.  
_2\. Hang out with your friends_  
His friends wouldn’t let him.  
_3\. Remember the bad things_  
Brendon recalled everything he remembered about Ryan last night. How cute and genuinely concerned he’d looked when he had thought Brendon’s dogs were sick. How he could carry a ten-pound bag with ease. How amazing Ryan was for starting that animal shelter in the first place. How grown-up and manly Ryan had become and his eyes, God, his eyes were still so incredibly beautiful.  
Okay, maybe step 4 would work.  
_4\. Get Closure_  
Brendon considered this. Ignoring Ryan Ross’ existence had been a failed attempt, maybe owning up to it and talking things through with Ryan would help. Ryan was a reasonable guy, after all. They could discuss what had happened as mature adults and then Brendon would be over Ryan. It was like keeping a big secret, once he opened up, the pressure of it would go away, and he would forget Ryan. 

“Oh, you’re back.” Drake said when Brendon went straight to the counter.  
“Is Ryan around?”  
“Yeah, he’s in the garden.”  
“Thanks.”  
Brendon stopped to pet the dogs for a minute before he went out to see Ryan. The little balls of fur calmed him down and he needed to be as relaxed as possible if he wanted to go through with his plan.  
Ryan was dressed in black pants, black Nikes and a black and white raglan shirt. Sunglasses covered his eyes and his hair was slightly messed up from the wind. Brendon had put on his newest pair of dark blue jeans, and an olive fall jacket, that he hoped would compliment his eyes.  
Ryan was currently in a conversation with an elderly lady and Brendon played with the nearest dog to wait for them to finish.  
Unfortunately, Ryan and the woman went back inside a few minutes later.  
He hoped Ryan had seen him and would come back outside to talk, but after twenty minutes had passed by, Brendon had not only given up hope, but had also fallen mercilessly in love with the Cocker Spaniel puppy.  
“Are you planning to adopt her or just crushing her dreams by getting her attached to you and never coming back again?”  
Ryan asked and Brendon could sense him standing behind Brendon with his hands in his pockets and a bitchy expression on his face. He turned around to look at Ryan and couldn’t help but silently congratulate himself on the accuracy of his assumption.  
“No, I think that’s more your thing,” Brendon retaliated. The fact that he had come here to make peace with Ryan, not start another fight, vanished blisteringly from his mind.  
“That was completely different.” Ryan picked Brendon’s puppy off the grass and held it securely in his arms, away from Brendon. “What are you even doing here _again_?”  
“I wanted to talk to you, but since you’re still so fucking stubborn and self-centered, there’s really no point.”  
“Oh, well I’m sorry you came out here to stalk me for nothing.”  
“I’m not fucking stalking you!” Brendon yelled and a dog barked in response.  
“So, if I leave right now, you won’t follow after me?”  
“No.” Brendon’s response was automatic and Ryan went back inside.  
It was cold, and Ryan or Drake must have fed the animals, because Brendon stood alone in the garden.  
“Fuck.,” he muttered to himself before he returned inside to the dog room. Brendon knew himself well enough that he could not leave the shelter with Ryan still hating him.  
“Ryan,” Brendon grabbed the back of his shoulder, and forced the other man to face him. Except Brendon had no idea what he was going to say next. “Why are you being such an ass to me?”  
Okay, and maybe Brendon should have had at least a broad _idea_ ) of what to say, because judging by Ryan’s expression, this seemed to have been the wrong approach to make peace.  
“How else would I treat you?” Ryan hissed.  
“Fuck” Brendon laughed sardonically. “I can’t believe this. I spent years worrying about you but you’re just an immature, little brat who needs to wallow in their woes for attention.”  
Ryan’s hands curled to fists. “Worrying about me? First you abuse my songs and then you ridicule my lines.” Ryan’s wrathful face was inches away from Brendon’s. “And Pretty Odd? Yeah, that’s still an album, last time I checked. Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean it’s a worthless piece of shit you’re too good for to mention. I spent months on it, poured my heart and soul into it, and you have absolutely no right to act like you’re above it all.”  
“Oh, because you’re doing so fucking well yourself. When was the last time you wrote a song and recorded it, huh? When did you perform your last concert? You’re just jealous, Ryan, because I don’t need you to be successful. I don’t need to sing your fucking songs to make a hit.”  
Ryan snorted. “No, you just need to take your shirt off and stage fuck Dallon.”  
“There we go with the jealousy again. You’re pathetic, you know that?”  
“I’m pathetic? You’re the one getting drunk every night. At least I don’t have to worry about choking on my own puke when I go to bed.”  
“No, I wouldn’t do that; it would satisfy you too much.” Brendon spat and Ryan punched him hard in the jaw.  
“Get the fuck out.” Ryan barked and he was shaking. Brendon watched him swallow and then he remembered Ryan’s childhood. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to upset Ryan that much.  
“Shit, Ry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly apologized and tried to reach for Ryan’s hands that were still trembling. Ryan abruptly stepped away from Brendon.  
“I said, get out!” Ryan’s voice broke on the last word, and had he not worn his sunglasses, Brendon was sure he would have seen the hints of tears in Ryan’s eyes.  
When Brendon made no attempt to leave, Ryan stormed out of the Animal Shelter. The door banged shut and Brendon felt his own eyes watering. He stifled a sniff and fumbled for his car keys. Brendon just wanted to go home. 

“Dallon, let me in!” Brendon hammered vigorously against the Weekes’ front door.  
“Brendon, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” Dallon immediately complained when he finally opened the door. Then Dallon noticed how forlorn Brendon looked, with his clothes dishevelled, and his red-rimmed eyes, and realized just how tiny and sad the normally happy and bouncy Brendon could be. Brendon felt Dallon’s warm and comforting body pressed against him, when Dallon embraced him.  
“It’s okay, Brenny. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”  
Dallon led Brendon into his kitchen where Brendon immediately slumped into a chair. Dallon proceeded to make coffee. Brendon watched him with a vacant expression.  
“So,” Dallon said and put a mug filled with steaming coffee into Brendon’s hands. “What happened?”  
“I fucked it up again,” Brendon whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. “I was going to make it up to him, but I just made it worse. Why do I always end up hurting him?”  
“Who?”  
Brendon casted his big, brown, helplessly looking eyes on Dallon’s concerned ones. “Ryan.”  
“Ryan Ross?”  
Brendon nodded. “He owns the animal shelter,” Brendon said, and told Dallon everything that happened since he first saw Ryan at the bar.  
“And now he hates me more than ever,” Brendon concluded and Dallon was speechless.  
“Brendon,” Dallon began after a few minutes of silence had passed between them. “Have you ever tried to look at this from Ryan’s perspective? I mean, you’ve never tried to call him back after the split, then you got married to Sarah, and now, after years of you guys not talking, you show up in his life and expect him to just forget about everything?”  
“No, not forget, I just want him to forgive me. I mean, I forgave him, right? Why is he allowed to stay mad at me?”  
“Maybe because you keep giving him a reason to,” Dallon told him, his voice quiet.  
“No, he started the fight.” Brendon argued and long forgotten was the hopelessness and guilt on his face that had evidently been there just a moment ago.  
“I’m not saying that he didn’t. All I’m saying is that Ryan was always there for you when you needed him, and when the time came where he needed you, you turned his back on him. But now that you feel like you need Ryan back, you get upset, because he’s not ready to let you back into his life as quickly. A life, by the way, that he had to rebuilt all by himself.”  
Brendon angrily stared at Dallon. “I thought you were here to cheer me up, not lecture me on my mistakes.”  
“No Brendon, I’m not _here_ to cheer you up. You came to my house and asked for it.”  
“Fuck you,” Brendon spat.  
“See, that’s exactly what I mean!” Dallon exclaimed. “There’s nothing in this world that gives you the right to be an ass to people. Just because you’re talented and managed to get famous for it, doesn’t mean you’re better than everyone else. It doesn’t mean shit, okay? You don’t get to act like a goddamn king, and treat the rest of us like your servants. Because I’m sick of it, the whole band is, and if you really think Sarah went away this weekend just to catch up with her friend, you’re more self-centered than I imagined.”  
“What do you mean?” Brendon asked him in a hollow voice.  
“That people need to get a break from your constant bossiness. You always have to be in the center of attention- you never let anyone else be it. You’ve become this arrogant dick, who’s only charming when there’s a fan or camera around. But you know what? The people that say kind words and lift you up when you have a crappy day, they’ve decided to become this person, whereas you chose to become a complete jerk. They could’ve been anyone too, but they chose to make you smile. Ryan’s one of those people, Brendon, and you better become one of them too.”  
Brendon was dumbstruck. He was not a horrible person. Was he?


	4. Chapter 4

Brendon went home feeling like a despicable, worthless pig. Dallon was right: he was horrible. He was going to change and become a better human being, -at least that’s what Brendon told himself as he flopped down on his couch- but not tonight. He would start tomorrow. Brendon turned the TV on and watched a random drama. It was not a good movie, but the over-complicated plot managed to stop Brendon from thinking about his own miserable life, and prevent him from replaying any of today’s events.  
He fell asleep on the couch and woke up around noon, when the doorbell rang and an apologetic Dallon stood outside on his doorstep with the Unnamed dog by his side.  
“Can we go for a walk?” Dallon asked gently. Brendon nodded, and grabbed his coat.  
“Look, I didn’t mean what I said to you last night. You’re not selfish Brendon. I don’t know what got into me, but none of it is true and I-“  
“It’s okay, Dallon,” Brendon interrupted him. He didn’t like how guilty and beaten-up Dallon acted. He really wasn’t mad at Dallon. Brendon knew he could be a complete ass sometimes, and even though Dallon _had_ been a bit harsh with his words, it was his duty as Brendon’s best friend to point out his faults. Brendon told him that, and Dallon smiled at him in relief. They walked together in comfortable silence, watching the Unnamed dog as he ran around sniffing on every tree they passed by.  
“You wanna go back to my place and play Outlast?” Brendon suggested, because he was bored from walking around his neighborhood.   
“No, I was thinking we could go to the dog park, to y’know, socialize the puppy.”   
Oh, yeah, there was a dog park not too far from Brendon’s house. He rarely went there with his own pets and had forgotten that it existed. But sure, if Dallon liked stepping into stranger’s dog’s poop, they could go.   
Or maybe not, Brendon thought, when they entered the park and he immediately spotted the tall man, all dressed in black.   
Shit, he’s going to think I’m stalking him, Brendon panicked, as he hypnotically continued to stare at Ryan playing Frisbee with three puppies. Brendon recognized the dogs from the shelter. They were cute. All four of them.   
Ryan was now throwing the Frisbee in Brendon’s general direction and where the fuck had Dallon disappeared to? Brendon didn’t even have a dog with him, which only corroborated his image of a stalker. Brendon’s mind sent him a flashback of the stuffed animal he had bought and named Ryden. No, he was definitely not obsessed.   
His face turned bright red when Ryan’s Frisbee hit him painfully on the forehead. Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about being served a restraining order, Brendon thought grimly, Ryan would just beat him up every time he came too close.   
“Sorry,” Ryan said and picked up the Frisbee without bothering to even glance at him. Brendon could have been wrong, but the apology didn’t sound very sincere to his ears.   
The dogs had followed Ryan and one of them wiggled her tail excitedly at Brendon. The adorable Cocker Spaniel puppy barked expectantly at Brendon, like she was waiting for him to remember her. Of course, Brendon did, and he immediately knelt down to pet her. He was in the middle of giving her a belly rub, when Ryan cleared his throat. Brendon lifted his gaze, but Ryan seemed to speak to the dog instead of him. “Look, I’m sorry I punched you yesterday. And the Frisbee was an accident… well, sort of. Not really. But you deserved it. So, uhm… “  
Brendon should interrupt him like he had with Dallon earlier today. Tell Ryan he understood what he was trying to say and assure him that he would try to stay out of his way from now on. But that would cut their conversation short, and Brendon wanted to stretch it out, regardless of how it would eventually snatch into two.  
“So?” Brendon asked, urging Ryan to explain himself further.  
“So that’s that.”   
Ryan strut away from him and went to the other end of the park. The dogs chased after him, and Brendon went to search for Dallon. The three of them left the park shortly thereafter. 

Sarah came home early the next day. She told Brendon that Chelsea had gotten a serious sunburn yesterday, and they had decided to head home prematurely.   
Brendon didn’t know how to feel. It was great to have the dogs back. Sarah too. On the other hand, he felt guilty because he was a married man and recently, his thoughts had not been occupied with his wife. He wondered what his parents would think if they knew. Probably throw a bible at him, drag him to church, make him confess his sins.   
What were his sins? How far would he have to go back to get it all off his chest? Did it all start at the altar or in Cape Town?   
“Are you alright?” Sarah asked him worriedly.   
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Just a bit tired,” Brendon assured her with a weak smile.  
“Couldn’t sleep much without me, huh?”   
“Guess not. I’ve missed you.” It wasn’t a lie. He really had. Just not in his bed.  
Brendon had not forgotten Dallon’s words, or the promise he had made to himself to become a better person.  
“Listen, Sarah,” he said and took his wife’s arm, leading her to one of the chairs in the kitchen.   
“I know I’ve been an asshole to you a lot in the past, and well, I’m sorry. I wish I’d been a better husband-“  
“Brendon.”  
“No, let me finish, please. I’m not the man I promised you I would be, when I slid that ring on your finger. But that’s going to change from now on. Fuck, Sarah. I know what it’s like to lose a person I love, and I don’t want to ever go through that again. Especially not with you.”  
Sarah stood up from her chair and wrapped her arms around him tightly. “I would never leave you,” she whispered in between kisses.   
Brendon lifted her small body and carried her upstairs. They stayed under the sheets until the dogs began scratching on the door and begged to be fed.  
The couple reluctantly got out of bed and Sarah went to the feeding dish.  
“We’re out of dog food,” she said, and Brendon felt sick.

“And 1, and 2, and 1, 2, 3, 4,” Dallon counted into the microphone. They were back in the studio and Brendon was on his third bottle of beer; it was hard to sing happy songs sober.  
“I need to take a leek,” Dan said when they were ready to take a break. Kenneth mumbled something about having to make a phone call, and soon Dallon and Brendon were alone.  
“So, how are you holding up, man?” Dallon inquired. He didn’t mention Ryan’s name, but Dallon didn’t have to. Brendon knew what he was asking.  
“Okay, I guess. I mean, Sarah and I are happier than ever, or at least that’s how it seems to be. And… I haven’t seen him since the park.”  
“But that’s good, right?”   
“Yeah.” Brendon’s response came out as broken; capturing perfectly how he felt.

He stayed behind in the studio. He did not want to go home. Couldn’t go home. He sat down on one of the sofas. Grabbed a notebook, and stared at its blankness, as he twirled the unused pen in his hand. His mind drifted predictably to Ryan. How Ryan had always managed to write songs for him that cheered Brendon up, said exactly what Brendon needed to hear. Most of the lyrics never made it to the album. But Brendon could still remember their words of encouragement coming from Ryan’s voice as he softly sang them to him. He would accompany them with some simple chords on his guitar and Brendon would sit there enchanted, wondering how in the world he had gotten so lucky.   
Ryan’s voice was different from Brendon’s own. It was raw and intimate, and less prominence. Which was not a bad thing, because it forced you to give it all of your attention. And Brendon had. Maybe that was why he had been so opposed to Ryan’s desire to sing more publicly. He had been reluctant to share it. Hadn’t wanted other people to discover it, too. They would never be able to give it the veneration it deserved.   
Brendon felt a stinging pain inside his chest. Had someone told his nineteen-year-old self that Ryan and him would end up like this, he would have laughed in their faces and called them preposterous. He’d made a promise to Ryan, he would explain to them, and the sun could explode before he would lean towards breaking it.   
He tried his hardest not to think about that summer. But then he felt his hand itch and, automatically, his mind began to wander into the past as he scribbled it all down. He kept recalling Dallon’s words too. He had to write something that made Ryan realize that his apology was indubitable. Find the precise words that would assure Ryan he would be there for him, no matter what. He was aiming for a lyric that would make 2006 Brendon proud.   
He was seeing double and yawning nonstop by the time he felt complacent with the song. Now all he needed was a suiting melody, but Brendon already knew which style to approach.   
He napped on the couch until midday, then the first siren rushed passed the building of the studio and Brendon awoke groggily. Big cities were much too noisy. Brendon rubbed his eyes, stretched and felt his back crack. Why hadn’t he bought an actual bed for the studio yet? Considering how many nights he spent here, it would really pay off and save him some aching muscles the following morning. He texted Zack his brilliant idea before it would escape his mind again. Then he clumsily reached for his glasses and found the notebook on the table beside it. Brendon read through it, expecting to hate every line now that he wasn’t completely sleep deprived, but they were good. Better than good, actually. Maybe not as artsy as Ryan’s, but Brendon’s words were on point. There was no interpretation necessary to understand the message the song was trying to deliver.  
He got off the couch and made his way to the recording area. He considered calling his bandmates to help him with the instrumentals, but this wasn’t a Panic song. Brendon wanted it to be just him. From Me to You. He hummed, as a smile spread on his mouth, the more excited he got. It would be impossible for Ryan to still hate him after he’d listened to it.   
The final version of the song was produced within a week. Kenneth and Dan had been a bit upset that Brendon had gone behind their backs and written and recorded a song, but Dallon understood. Everyone that heard it, had praised the song, and Brendon couldn’t help but beam every time it was mentioned. His label had already arranged the song to be on the next Panic album. Brendon didn’t care if it was, he’d leak the song tomorrow anyway. Then Ryan could listen to it and they could make up.


	5. Chapter 5

The song was uploaded on YouTube and devoured by the fans. “So, what’s up with your new song? Should we expect more music like this on the next album?” Brendon was asked in one of his interviews, after the song had become a hit. “I can’t say for sure what the upcoming album’s going to sound like. But the song itself- it’s something I should’ve said long time ago.”  
The Ryden followers had exploded at this statement. As much as Brendon liked to think that all Panic lyrics were written ambiguously, the fans never failed to decipher and analyze them almost perfectly. This song was no exception, and Brendon started to have doubts. If people he had never met could figure out what he was trying to say, Ryan should definitely be able to as well. But Ryan Ross had not given Brendon any signs that he had been forgiven; that they were okay now. 

Two weeks had passed and Brendon felt like he was running aimlessly around in a maze. Maybe Ryan hated the song, or maybe he just hadn’t listened to it yet. It would explain why Ryan hadn’t to contact him.  
“I’m sure if he’d listened to it, he would have had at least the decency to say something about it to you,” Dallon reasoned with him. And yeah maybe Dallon was right, Brendon thought. Either that, or Dallon was just reassuring him to prevent Brendon from having a complete break down.  
Either way, not knowing what was going on in Ryan’s mind made Brendon feel uneasy. He had to visit him at the shelter again. Even if it meant he was risking getting (literally) kicked out by Ryan. Brendon preferred the physical pain over the psychological one. 

“Hey Drake,” Brendon walked straight to Ryan’s business partner and managed to ignore the dogs. “Have you seen Ryan around?”  
“He’s not working today.”  
“Oh.” Well, shit. “Do you know where he would be?”  
“At home, probably. It’s not like there’s other places to go to in LA.” Brendon could not decipher if Drake was being sarcastic or not. But he preferred the image of Ryan sitting alone at home, listening to Brendon’s song on replay, over Ryan going shopping with friends that were not Brendon. Or Ryan watching a movie in the theatres and sitting next to people that he shared popcorn with and who were also not Brendon. Or Ryan going to the museum, looking at different displays, pointing at the ones he liked and holding hands with- okay Brendon was totally starting to put himself into the scenarios. He forced himself to stop. Because Brendon was here in Ryan’s animal shelter, whereas Ryan was anywhere but.  
“Could you give me his address?” Brendon asked. Drake was about to deny, but Brendon would not be Brendon Urie, if he did not know how to charm people into giving him the things he wanted.

It was dark outside. Brendon had stopped by Ryan’s house earlier, but nobody had answered the door when he’d rung the bell. He wasn’t sure if it was because Ryan hadn’t been home, or because Ryan had just not wanted to talk to him. But now the lights in the house were on and a window -that had previously been closed-was ajar. Ryan was definitely inside - unless Drake had lied to him and Ryan did not even live here. Brendon really hoped this wasn’t the case.  
He got out of his car and made his way to Ryan’s front door with unsure steps. Brendon had a vague idea of what he was going to do.  
He stopped a few feet away from the patio, close to the open window. Then Brendon started singing his new song. It did not sound as softly sung as it did in the studio version, but his vocals had to be loud enough so Ryan would hear him from the inside.  
And soon enough, the door opened and a perplexed Ryan came out. Brendon finished his performance before he allowed his mind to think about how hot Ryan looked in a plain white shirt and basketball shorts.  
Now, Ryan had definitely heard his apology song. Yet, Ryan just stood there like Michelangelo’s David: Stationary and breathtaking, and not saying a single word. And, unfortunately, Brendon’s plan had ended here. He had no objective about what to do next, and having no better alternative, Brendon began acting out of instinct.  
“I could write an entire album apologizing for everything else I’ve done, but I’m not enough of a poet to say it all in verses, so…” Brendon shrugged and Ryan gave him a haughty expression.  
“What makes you think I would bother listening to any of your songs anyway?”  
“Well, if you didn’t, I’ll just bring my guitar here and continue to sing them outside of your window and I won’t stop until you hear them all, even if your neighbors start throwing their entire furniture at me and yell profane phrases to try to shut me up.”  
Ryan’s lips twitched and were fighting off a smile. It was a small action, Brendon would not have noticed otherwise, had he not stared so intently at Ryan’s mouth.  
“Come on in then.” Ryan opened the door wider, but did not step aside. So, when Brendon walked passed him into the entry hall, his jacket brushed against Ryan’s arm and he was close enough to catch Ryan’s scent. He didn’t smell of any cologne or aftershave or soap. He just smelled like Ryan. Divine, natural, irresistible. Brendon inhaled it eagerly in.  
“So,” Ryan crossed his arms and faced Brendon with impatience.  
“I’m sorry.” Brendon blurted out immediately, “I’m sorry for what happened recently, and I’m sorry for shit talking you over the past few years, and I’m so fucking sorry for being such an ass and never even considering how you felt and I’m sorry that it took me this long to run after you, _especially_ after we left things the way we did.”  
Brendon had apologized to the picture frame that hung over Ryan’s shoulder on the wall. He now risked a quick glance at Ryan, hoping to find a clue of what he was thinking at the moment, but Ryan’s face remained emotionless. Brendon took it as a sign to continue his apology:  
“I was asinine for telling myself I could feel the way we felt with any other person, if only I tried hard enough. Fuck, I knew I was lying to myself and it was so stupid Ry, and I missed you everyday and now that you’re here I- I don’t want to lose you again.  
“And I know this doesn’t change anything, but it also doesn’t change what I said in Cape Town. I meant every word I said.” His voice hitched at the next part: “And I still do.”  
Brendon’s eyes resembled that of a drinking glass that you accidentally filled to the brim with water and you knew that you had to hold it absolutely steady, or else the water would spill over with the slightest tremble in your hands. The way Ryan looked at him now, shook his glass.  
He knew Ryan couldn’t deal with people crying. And he also knew that Ryan knew that he knew this fact about him. Brendon prayed to God, Ryan wouldn’t think Brendon was forcing the sobs he was now making. That Brendon was playing the dirty card, when all Brendon really wanted was a clean sleeve. He was expecting for Ryan to furrow his brows and throw him out, scream at Brendon that he never wanted to see his sorry ass ever again, but instead, Ryan’s features softened.  
“Hey, it’s okay, Bren.” He said soothingly, and fumbled out a fresh tissue from his right pocket.  
Brendon expected him to give him the tissue so he could blow his nose with it. Instead, Ryan’s left hand went to the back of his head, while his other hand sensitively swiped the salty water away that had assembled below his eyes.  
Ryan was so gentle and caring, Brendon observed and new tears busted out and were caught by Ryan’s tissue. He could feel Ryan’s breath on his skin- that’s how close they were. Ryan seemed to notice it too, and abruptly stepped away.  
“Why don’t you sit down?” He offered awkwardly, and motioned Brendon into the sitting room where a big leather couch stood. As they walked, Ryan led him, with his hand resting weightlessly on Brendon’s lower back. It had a calming effect on Brendon, and his breathes became less hysteric.  
“Hot Chocolate?” Ryan offered when Brendon sat on the far end of the sofa. “Or, uhm, do you want a beer?” Ryan added as an afterthought, remembering the two weren’t teenagers anymore.  
“Chocolate, please.” Brendon said, feeling completely out of place sitting all by himself on this gigantic couch.  
Ryan disappeared into the kitchen and Brendon curiously looked around the room he was in. A big flat-screen TV was on the wall across him, a grand piano was sitting in the corner next to the couch. A few artsy paintings hung on the walls and the dark hardwood floor was almost completely covered with vintage rugs. Compared to Ryan’s house, Brendon’s own appeared bland.

“I don’t have any cookies to go with it, so I hope the sprinkles and whip cream make up for it.” Ryan told him as he walked out of the kitchen and back to Brendon.  
Brendon took the mug from Ryan and was disappointed when their fingers didn’t brush together.  
The smell of the hot chocolate brought back memories to Brendon, and he chocked down another set of tears. Ryan noticed and sat down beside Brendon on the couch, watching him with a worried expression.  
Brendon took a sip of his drink and the warm milk felt good in his throat that was strained from all the crying he had done. It tasted amazing; Ryan had not lost his talent of making the world’s best hot chocolate. Then again, he painfully realized, Brendon was probably not the only person Ryan had served his feel-better Hot Chocolate with cookies to. It suddenly occurred to Brendon that he had never asked Ryan if he was single. He stared at Ryan to see if his face would give away the answer. To Brendon’s surprise, Ryan grinned at him.  
“You’ve got- “, Ryan motioned with his fingers over his own upper lip. Brendon looked confused. Ryan reached for the tear-soaked tissue, “Here, let me-”  
Oh, milk mustache. Brendon finally realized when Ryan’s thumb trailed over his philtrum. The tissue Ryan used was too crumpled up and his fingers brushed against Brendon’s skin, wiping away the fake mustache.  
They both pretended not to notice, at least that’s what Brendon thought they were doing, until Ryan’s tongue licked his slightly chocolate smeared digit.  
“What?” Ryan asked him innocently, then his eyes widened, like he had _just_ realized what he was doing.  
“You,” Brendon began and was hit by a sudden epiphany. He shook his head, and tried again, “I need you closer.”  
He looked at Ryan with pleading eyes. He hadn’t meant sex by it. He needed Ryan’s hand to always be there beside him and ready to hold onto. He needed Ryan’s reassuring words, whenever Brendon’s confidence evaporated. He needed to be able to rest his head on Ryan’s chest and feel the vibration whenever he managed to make Ryan laugh. Brendon needed his Ryan back.  
“How close?” Ryan’s lips hovered over Brendon’s. Brendon didn’t answer him with words, but the space between them was closed as their mouths finally reunited with each other.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo there :) So, this is the first set of flashbacks and I marked the scene with a star, just to make the jumps in time clearer. Also, there's no warning on this fic, but there is some porn in this chapter, so if that bothers you just skip the middle section

As his tongue found Ryan’s, Brendon was suddenly remembering that one drunk couple in Vegas they’d seen. Ryan and him had snug out of their homes on some school night, before Panic had been picked up, and had walked around the Las Vegas strip. They had tried to get into various casinos, but neither of them could pass as 21, regardless of their fake ID’s. They sat on a bench, passing a joint, and observed, as outsiders, all the drunk adults Vegas consumed. 

*

“I love you.” Some shitfaced man in a Blue Jay’s jersey slurred to a girl wearing high heels and a bright red dress.  
“I wanna marry you. Marry me?” He continued. The girl nodded excitedly, and it was amazing how both of them were still coherent.  
“The chapels over there!” Ryan yelled at them and pointed at a small building across the street. Brendon elbowed him in the ribs.  
“Ryan, don’t tell them that! They’re gonna get married and regret it tomorrow morning and it’s all going to be your fault.”  
“It’s not my fault. You don’t go to Vegas without being okay with the possibility of getting married to a complete stranger.”  
Brendon was about to protest, but Ryan continued: “And besides, maybe they’re not even strangers. Maybe they came here together because the guy didn’t have the balls to propose sober in their hometown. Maybe he had it all planned out and this will be the start of a beautiful, long-lived marriage.”  
“That’s bullshit. They probably met five minutes ago and the girl is actually here on her bachelorette party and tomorrow she’s going to cry to her fiancé and he’ll break up with her and she’ll be stuck heartbroken in a divorce.”  
“You’re such an anti-romantic, you know that?” Ryan teased him and laughed when he saw that the couple had successfully located the chapel and was now disappearing behind its doors.  
“No, I’m being realistic.” Brendon argued and Ryan’s eyes were now trained on him.  
“If the fiancé really loved this girl, he wouldn’t call off the engagement because of some stupid intoxicated wedding. So, really, the girl is better off without him, and who knows, maybe baseball boy is it.”  
Brendon snorted. “I doubt that. And marriage is supposed to be something meaningful, not the result of some drunken night in this shithole.”  
“You don’t want to get married here?” Ryan inquired interested.  
“No, if the band doesn’t work out, I’m going east after we’re done school. Maybe go to New York, or something.’  
“You’ve never told me that.”  
“Well, I’m counting on Panic at the Disco! becoming world famous.” Brendon grinned widely, eyes sparkling at the thought of his dream coming true.  
“And then we can play in a sold-out Madison Square and hang out in New York together afterwards.” Ryan returned the smile and, yes, that sounded like a good plan.  
“C’mon,” Ryan grabbed his hand and dragged him off the bench.  
“Where are we going?”  
“To the wedding!” Ryan shouted into the night and ran, fingers still entwined with Brendon’s, to the chapel.

“You may kiss the bride.”  
They came in, just in time, to watch the ending of the ceremony. They slid into one of the pews in the back row, and Brendon felt uncomfortable watching the newly weds’ sloppy make out session at the altar.  
“Look at them, they’re so cute,” Ryan gushed mockingly into Brendon’s ear.  
“Shut up. You caused them their upcoming misery.”  
“Misery? They’ll name their first born after me.”  
“Ryan, this isn’t a joke. They’re going to regret this for the rest of their lives,” Brendon said seriously.  
“How do you know?”  
“Well, do _you_ want to get married like this?” Brendon countered.  
“No,” Ryan admitted and shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to get married here anyways. Not in the US, I mean.”  
The married couple was shoved away by another drunken couple waiting to get married.  
“Can we leave?” Brendon asked and Ryan nodded.  
Before they did, however, Ryan fished another joint out his pocket and placed it in the nearest hymnal. Brendon gave him a confused stare. “It’s a holy smoke now.” Ryan explained and, Ryan, Brendon decided, was a dork.

*

Brendon remembered this moment all in a flash. His tongue still lingered in Ryan’s hot, open mouth. They were making out just as sloppy and hasty as the married couple had that night in the chapel. Brendon kissed him fiercely, his lips attacking Ryan’s, who was gasping for air. If they stopped for a second, or slowed down even a little bit, it would give Ryan the chance to think about this, and Brendon wanted to prevent exactly that. He didn’t want either of them to think about the consequences of their doings, or what it all meant. He wanted to pretend he had found a time machine, and was making out on the tour bus’s beaten up couch, not on Ryan’s leather sofa. Go back to the days when everything had been so much simpler.  
Ryan’s hands were on Brendon’s chest, pushing their bodies apart from another. “Brendon,” Ryan said. And no, no, no, they weren’t supposed to speak.  
“Why did you come here?” he whispered, eyes glued on Brendon’s.  
“To apologize.”  
“You don’t need to fuck me for redemption.”  
“That’s,” Brendon sighed, trying to find the right words. “That’s not what this is. I _want_ this. I want you.”  
Ryan shook his head, “But we shouldn’t rush this.”  
“Rush? I think it’s about fucking time we do this again.”  
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Ryan sounded frustrated. “I just don’t want you going straight back to your wife (no pun intended) once you’re done reminiscing your little gay phase.”  
“I’m pan, actually, which means-“  
“I know what it means!”  
“-that I’m attracted to you everyday, on every occasion, _especially_ this one.” Brendon smirked and went back to kissing Ryan’s neck. That’s still his weak spot, Brendon noticed, satisfied when Ryan erupted in a filthy moan. Brendon pulled back a moment later, needing to have Ryan’s lips back on his’ again.  
They made out on the couch, less frantic this time, with Ryan on top of him, tongue sliding in and out of Brendon’s hot mouth. His hands securely wrapped around Ryan’s hips, pulling their bodies closer together. His fingers slid underneath Ryan’s shirt and Brendon could feel the outline of his spine. He was touching Ryan’s skin and it was radiating heat and Brendon couldn’t get enough as his hands roamed over Ryan’s back. 

“I’ve missed you.” Brendon said earnestly, when they stopped kissing for a second to catch their breaths. Ryan’s chest was rising and falling quickly, and he could feel Ryan’s heart beating vigorously against his own.  
“I’ve missed you too.” Ryan’s eyes sparkled, his voice was raspy and low, and it went straight to Brendon’s dick.  
Their noses brushed against each other and a big smile had plastered on Ryan’s face. “Shit, how I missed you,” Ryan mumbled absentmindedly, staring at Brendon in utter fascination.  
Brendon pulled off Ryan’s shirt, tossing the piece of clothing carelessly onto the floor. He unbuttoned Ryan’s shorts and pulled down the zipper, Ryan’s hard cock immediately springing out at the release. Brendon hastily pulled down Ryan’s boxers too, and fuck, Ryan looked good like this.  
Ryan nudged his shoulder. “Get your goddamn back off the couch so I can get you naked too.”  
He more than eagerly obliged and sat up. Ryan immediately straddled his lap and undressed him, pulling his pants and briefs down over his ankles. It was a weird wave of nostalgia that hit him at the feel of Ryan’s bare ass on his hardened cock. Ryan’s eyes were dark with lust and Brendon’s breath hitched at the realization that this, right there was them being back together. He had his Ryan back, at least for now. He took in Ryan’s form, who blushed at his penetrating gaze. Brendon ran a hand through Ryan’s hair, then stopped and reached to touch Ryan’s face, knuckles tenderly stroking the still reddened cheeks.  
He felt Ryan’s own fingertips sliding over his chest, roaming over his skin in a meticulous manner. They were re-exploring each other’s bodies and Brendon committed every touch to his memory.  
An unexpected groan erupted in Brendon. Ryan kissed him again, more innocently, like he hadn’t just slipped a finger inside Brendon’s ass.  
“You’re so fucking tight,” Ryan heaved and his voice was pure sex.  
“Then stretch me,” he rasped, hoping it came out sounded commanding and not as desperate as he felt.  
“Sorry, what was that?” Ryan teased and started drawing circles inside him.  
“Just fuck me already.”  
He stared in disbelief when Ryan gently pulled his finger out of him with a smirk. “Well in that case, we better switch to a bed. Don’t want you staining and scratching my couch when you’re screaming my name through your release.”  
The image alone made Brendon’s cock twitch. He followed Ryan into the bedroom and his eyes caught sigh of the bottle of lube and the pack of condoms sitting on the nightstand. It sent a sickening feeling through Brendon that he tried to shake off. He was here with Ryan, whoever had been in this room before him didn’t matter. He was here.  
Ryan poured some of the lube over his fingers and Brendon pretended not to notice how the bottle was almost empty. The remainder of the liquid would be used up by them alone. He’d make damn sure of that.  
He tried to suppress a moan when Ryan started scissoring him, adding a third finger once Brendon was loose enough.  
“I’m ready”  
“You sure?” Ryan asked and Brendon nodded. He wasn’t prepped enough, but he would manage. He’d take the pain; it was better than another second passing without Ryan’s dick inside him.  
Brendon screamed at the sensation. In none of his memories was Ryan this fucking huge. Ryan’s movements were slow at first, but his rhythm increased when Brendon’s whimpers had been replaced by stoic breaths and it didn’t hurt as much anymore. Brendon felt too full and the pleasure of it was driving him insane. Ryan changed the angled of his thrusts, remembering the exact spot of his aim.  
“Oh! God yes! Fuck right there.”  
“Jesus” Ryan hissed in response, hitting his prostate again and again.  
Pre-cum was leaking non-stop out of Brendon’s cock now, and he was torn between wanting to come right at this moment, or having Ryan fuck him for hours. He hoped he could do both.  
Ryan moaned a dirty and slutty and completely wanton sounding ‘Fuck’ into Brendon’s ear. It wasn’t fair. It made Brendon lose his own voice, and he tried to make up for it by meeting Ryan’s thrusts on point, every single time.  
“I’m close.” Ryan’s informed him, his movements becoming erratic.  
“Don’t pull out,” Brendon pleaded and cursed the condom that would block Ryan’s cum from shooting into his ass.  
A sinful groan escaped Ryan’s lips as he climaxed, riding his orgasm out with each slam.  
As he did so, Brendon rubbed his own dick frantically. He needed to get off. A second later he did, hot spurts of come draping over his hand.  
They laid on top of each other motionless, waiting to come down. Once they had, Ryan pulled out of Brendon and tossed the condom away.  
Silence fell over them and Brendon became unsure of the situation. He had no idea what they had just done, or what it meant. Ryan had rolled off him and they were laying side by side on the bed. Brendon turned to face him at the same time as Ryan shifted closer to him. Their noses touched. Brendon could see the different shades of brown in Ryan’s eyes.  
“You stink of sex.” Ryan noted.  
“Oh yeah?”  
Ryan nuzzled his neck, sniffing exaggeratedly, “Definitely do.”  
Brendon laughed, and fuck, how much he missed these moments with him? Cuddled up together and knowing their place in the world.  
“Whatever, moan-a Lisa,” Brendon smirked.  
“I hate that fucking nickname.”

Brendon woke up, his ass in indescribable pain. Maybe him and Ryan had overdone it by fucking three times in one night. But Brendon thought they ought to have sex at least a billion times more to make up for the time they had spend apart. He winced when he tried to sit up. He could smell Ryan on his skin. It was a good scent – one he’d missed.  
“Morning,” Ryan yawned and smiled sleepily at Brendon.  
“Hey.”  
“It stinks in here,” Ryan stated and ruffed his nose in disgust. What did he expect? Brendon wondered, six different loads of cum were staining the bedsheet and neither of them had thought of opening the window before they had collapsed into deep sleep.  
“Go shower,” Brendon advised him, “I’ll join you in a minute.”  
Ryan obeyed and disappeared in the bathroom. Brendon stood up and went to find his jeans.  
He found his phone in the left, back pocket. Three missed calls and eight text messages. Half of them were Sarah’s, demanding where the fuck he was and warning that he better not be passed out in some sleazy nightclub.  
“Went out with a friend.” He texted back, hoping she would not ask who said friend was. Brendon tried to feel guilty, he really did. Fuck, he had just committed adultery. He loved Sarah. He should feel some sort of remorse for cheating and lying to her. But he couldn’t. Brendon smiled when he joined a naked Ryan under the shower. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” Ryan asked when they were both freshly showered.  
Brendon inspected the kitchen: Coffee machine, blender, microwave, fridge, stove, oven. “Dude, we can make chunky monkey smoothies!” Brendon suggested excitedly.  
“What the fuck is that?”  
“Its like a coffee smoothie with chocolate and banana and peanut butter.”  
“That sounds disgusting.”  
“It’s amazing.”, Brendon argued and was already rummaging through Ryan’s kitchen shelves to find all the necessary ingredients.  
“I’m having cereal. You can drink your freak smoothie.”  
Ryan went to the fridge to grab the milk when Brendon noticed how empty the bag was.  
“You know I need milk for the smoothie,” he said calculatedly.  
Ryan lifted an eyebrow, “There’s only enough for one of us.”  
“Unless we share the smoothie.” Brendon stared him down with his best puppy face.  
Ryan groaned in defeat and handed the milk over, “Fine. But if I die of food poisoning, it’s your fault.”  
“You won’t.” Brendon grinned from ear to ear and pecked him on the lips.  
He had finally found the peanut butter jar in the very back of a cupboard, when the doorbell rang.  
“I hate people.” Ryan grumbled. Brendon agreed as he watched Ryan leave the kitchen to tell whoever was standing outside to fuck off.  
“Drake.” Brendon could hear Ryan say. He sounded surprised.  
“Hey, uhm, I tried to call you but you didn’t answer your phone. So I figured I just swing by to tell you that everything’s alright with Ginger.”  
“Oh good. Thanks for taking her to the vet.”  
“Of course.”  
Neither of them spoke for a moment and Brendon hoped it was because Ryan was silently signalizing Drake that he had someone over. Someone _very_ special over. Brendon had already decided that they would have sex on the kitchen counter, once Ryan had gotten rid of the unwelcome visitor.  
“So” Drake initiated a conversation again, and why couldn’t he just leave him and Ryan alone? “Are we still set on our date tonight? Because I got us reservations at Le Petite Paris.”  
Brendon turned the blender on. He had heard enough. Suddenly, the phantom face who Ryan had shared the first three-quarters of the lube with was replaced with Drake’s. He watched the blender rip the banana into pieces. He continued to stare, as the foods turned into a brown liquid. He kept his eyes trained on the smoothie, even when he saw one of Ryan’s hands turn the blender off.  
“I think that’s enough.” Ryan said in his usual calm, soothing voice.  
Brendon felt hollow. It was absurd to think that Ryan had been celibate since Cape Town, but Brendon had always hoped that the people he’d slept with were meaningless fucks that wouldn’t get to stay the night. Drake was not meaningless. He was Ryan’s goddamn business partner. It took time to plan and operate something as successful as the Animal Shelter. Who knew how long Ryan had known Drake for? And Drake had mentioned the date so casually, like it wouldn’t be their first date. Like it was just a normal night out with Ryan, and they would go back to Ryan’s place and have sex in the bed Brendon had slept in only a mere couple of hours ago.  
“I should go.” Brendon muttered, avoiding all eye contact with Ryan. He was scared of what he would find if he did.  
“What about breakfast?” Ryan sounded confused, like he was unaware of how easily it was to eavesdrop a conversation in the front door, when standing in the kitchen.  
“What about Drake?” Brendon retorted, and realized as he was asking, that he would rather not know the answer. “I really have to go now.”  
Brendon speed-walked out the house. The last thing he heard before shutting the door was Ryan’s “What the fuck, Brendon?”.


	7. Chapter 7

Brendon had drunken half of the vodka bottle before he finally found the courage to get out of his car. It took him several attempts to put his house key in the lock, though when he finally succeeded, a furious Sarah awaited him.

“We should talk about out marriage,” Brendon slurred, before Sarah could even open her mouth.  
“What marriage?” she shrieked. “You barely bother to come home to me, and when you do, you’re drunk off your ass. I can’t even remember the last time I saw you sober!”  
“Sobriety is a sin,” Brendon muttered and walked past his wife. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. It contained a pathetic alcohol percentage, but the vodka was burning his throat and he needed to protect his voice. If he fucked it up too much, he wouldn’t be able to sing, and wouldn’t earn any money, and who would pay for the booze then?  
Sarah made an angry sound that Brendon did not care to decipher. He hated her. He hated Drake. He hated everyone is this god-fucking world. Except for Ryan, which was precisely the reason why he should be the only one allowed to be with Ryan. But Ryan was fucking Drake. And Brendon was fucking Sarah. And Brendon used to think that he got lucky with Sarah. But Sarah didn’t get very lucky with him. Besides, if Brendon was married, and Ryan was taken, then all Brendon and Ryan could ever have with each other was an affair. Brendon wanted more than that.  
“We should take a break,” Brendon said to Sarah, because that’s what the vodka had told him to do, earlier in the car. His vision was too blurry to read Sarah’s face correctly. He took the liberty to assume she wasn’t smiling.  
“I had sex with Ryan last night,” Brendon informed her, his voice lacking any kind of resentment. Sarah remained speechless and he took it as a sign to continue: “You remember Ryan? Ryan Ross. Ol’ buddy of mine. Fuck buddy, actually.” Brendon had a laughing fit for a few seconds. “I was gonna marry him. Had a speech and suit and honeymoon and shit. He never heard it. Ran out on me before I even bought the rings.”  
“You never told me any of this,” Sarah whispered, the anger in her had vanished and had been replaced with worry.  
Brendon chuckled darkly.

*

They had never been officially dating. Brendon’s twenty-second birthday had been celebrated in South Africa, because they had to play a show there the next day. Being away from the US had been an eye-opener for Brendon. Normally, he would have thrown a party in some fancy nightclub and invited all of LA to come. But they had been on a different continent and it’d been a small gathering. No one had sent them any questioning looks when he and Ryan went back to their hotel room early, claiming they had jetlag and needed to rest before the show. 

“Happy Birthday, babe.” Ryan had cooed in his ear, once the hotel room door was shut securely behind them.  
“It’s nice here. Don’t you think?” Brendon had asked him in between kisses.  
Ryan had hummed in agreement, his hands busy with taking Brendon’s shirt off.  
“We should come back here, after the tour. Get a beach house and, you know, just relax.”  
“Relax?” Ryan wiggled a suggestive eyebrow, his right leg pressing in between Brendon’s.  
“Yeah, I mean, they understand us here. We wouldn’t have to hide from the media all the damn time or hang out with fake friends. It would just be us.”  
Ryan laughed and it sounded forced to Brendon’s ears, “You think we would still do this, if we didn’t have to hide it?”  
“Of course we would! Why would you even say that?”  
“I don’t know, maybe because you keep hanging out with that Sarah girl. Doesn’t seem to me like you actually need me beyond sex.”  
“Ry, don’t be stupid. I love you, couldn’t love anyone but you. Sarah’s just a girl.”  
“I love you too,” Ryan had mumbled against the nape of Brendon’s neck.  
“So, South Africa?” Brendon dared to ask again.  
“Yeah,” Ryan lifted his head and smiled, “We can get one of those nice beach houses we drove past today.”  
“And I can run around naked without having to freeze my ass off.”  
“Oh,” Ryan laughed, “Well then it’s set. We’re taking a vacation in Cape Town.”  
“A long vacation.”

“Ry, wake up!” Brendon had shaken Ryan awake in their shared hotel bed.  
“No.” Ryan had grumbled and had tried to pull the blanket over his eyes.  
“I found us a house.”  
“What time is it?”  
“Doesn’t matter, look it’s in the newspaper. It’s on sale right now. We should go check it out.”  
Ryan had groaned, but gotten dressed.

“Isn’t it cute? I think it looks really homey,” Brendon had gushed when they’d taken a tour around the house. They had held hands the entire time.  
“I like it.”  
Brendon’s cell phone had rung when they stood outside on the patio. They had heard the ocean waves crashing against the shore, and had been only a few steps away from the actual beach.  
“Sarah, hey.” He’d said into the phone, watching Ryan make a face in disapproval. “Baby, I can’t really talk right now. Can’t this wait? Yeah, we have a show in a few hours and I need to get ready.” He had heard Ryan snort. “Yes, I’ll call you afterwards. Bye. Love you too.”  
“Love you too?” Ryan had repeated, as soon as Brendon had hung up, “Did she say she loved you, or was that a referral to you loving both, me and her?”  
“She said it first. I didn’t mean it.”  
“Then why would you say it?”  
Brendon has shrugged, not knowing the answer.  
“Because you don’t know what you want. You keep telling me about all these plans about our future. But the fact is, Brendon, we will never have one. They’re just dreams. And if you were really serious about us, you would dump Sarah’s ass right now.”  
“You know I can’t do that.” Brendon had said in a small voice.  
“Why the fuck not?”  
“Because she deserves better.”  
“But I don’t?”  
“Don’t be stupid, of course you do. But I can’t just break up with her over the phone.”  
Ryan had mutter something under his breath. He’d been angry, and they had left the beach house shortly after, no longer holding hands.  
“I need to give Sarah a quick call,” Brendon had said, when him and Ryan had returned to the hotel room. They had just finished their show; the last show Brendon would ever perform with Ryan. But Brendon had not known that back then.  
“Whatever,” Ryan had tried to say it with indifference, but Brendon could tell he was still mad at him. Ryan had turned the TV on, and Brendon had called Sarah.  
“Let me guess,” Ryan had said when Brendon had hung up, “You’re still dating her.”  
“It’s not that easy.”  
“The course of true love never did run smooth,” Ryan had uttered, “That’s a quote, by the way.”  
“By whom?”  
“Shakespeare.”  
Silence had fallen over them after that, and Brendon hadn’t been able to stand it: “Look, I’m sorry. And I really don’t understand why you’re so upset about Sarah, I mean it’s not like you never had a girlfriend, either.”  
“Hey! I’m single right now,” Ryan had barked, “No thanks to you.”  
“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” Brendon had pulled the sheet back, but Ryan had remained sitting on the couch. “Are you coming or not?” He had added, but gotten no response.  
The bed had felt empty. He had watched Ryan in the dark shutting the TV off and curling up on the sofa. Brendon had sighed and had left his warm, comfortable bed to join him.  
“Get off me,” Ryan had hissed, when Brendon had laid down on top of him. Brendon had grabbed both of Ryan’s hands and had slid them underneath his own shirt.  
“Your hands are cold,” he’d explained. Ryan had huffed but had let his hands wander down Brendon’s pyjama bottoms.  
“I’m sorry, Ry,” he’d whisper again, and had placed a kiss on Ryan’s forehead.  
“It’s okay. It’s just, sometimes I’m so sick of always coming in second place.”  
“I’m sorry,” Brendon had apologized again, “When the tour is over, I’ll make up for all the shit I’ve done.”  
“Promise?”  
“Yeah, I promise. Now come back to bed, because I’m freezing and you’re not fat enough to be a comfortable mattress.” 

They had been woken up by the ringtone of Brendon’s phone.  
“Ugh.” Ryan had groaned, and had grabbed Brendon’s hands to cover up his ears.  
“I gotta answer that,” Brendon had said and had pulled away his right hand away from Ryan, to reach for his phone.  
“Just throw it against the wall and smash it.”  
“Hey Sarah.” Ryan had made a very promiscuous moan at that, “No, that’s just Ryan trying to seduce me” Brendon had joked, trying to ignore the sudden blood flow in his dick. God, Ryan could sound so slutty. “Yeah, we’re flying out tonight.” Brendon had watched as Ryan’s head had disappeared under the covers. “Yeah, I miss-“, Brendon’s voice had hitched when he’d felt Ryan’s mouth around his hardening cock, “you too.” He’d felt Ryan’s tongue swirling around the head, then proceeding to lick his underside. He’d barely understood a word Sarah had said to him. “Paris? Yeah, yeah, sounds great. Yeah, we’ll go after the tour.” Ryan’s mouth had disappeared. “Listen Sarah, I gotta go. Yeah, ok, you too, bye.”  
“Paris?” Ryan had screamed, “What happened to Africa?”  
“Shit Ry, I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.” His erection had slowly subsided.  
“Fuck you! I don’t want your fucking apologies.”  
“Then what do you want?” Brendon had hollered.  
“Not this,” Ryan had pointed to the bed. “I could be so much more than your convenient fuckboy,” his voice had returned to being barely a whisper. “But you can’t see that.”  
“That’s not what this is!” Brendon had argued. “I just want to keep” -his brain had yelled at him to shut up, but his mouth had continued to speak the words nevertheless- “my options open.”  
Ryan had stared at him, shocked, disbelieved, angry? Brendon hadn’t been able to decipher.  
“Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He’d tried to fix it, but had known it was too late.  
“Because I don’t mean shit to you.”  
“You mean the world to me.” A cliché phrase; but it’d been the first thing to pop up in Brendon’s head.  
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”  
“I’m just trying to figure myself out,” Brendon had admitted quietly.  
“Yeah?” No sympathy had been in Ryan’s voice, “And how long’s that going to take? Five, ten, fifteen years? Until you’re married with two kids and live in the suburb?”  
Brendon had remained quiet.  
“You’re unbelievable, you know that? Quit Sarah, or quit me. But I’m sick and tired of sharing you.”  
“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”  
“Yeah,” Ryan spat, “maybe I am. If that’s the only way to resolve this. Go call Sarah, or tell me that this -shit, I don’t even know what to call what we’re doing- is over.”  
“You know I can’t do that.”  
“Well, why the hell not?”  
Brendon hadn’t known the answer himself. He had felt an equal amount of fear of losing Ryan, and being one hundred percent with him.  
“Bren, you can’t keep me waiting forever.” Ryan’s voice had been harsh and Brendon had felt like he was stuck between jumping off a cliff, or being eaten by a pack of wolves.  
“Brendon,” Ryan had urged, when Brendon still hadn’t moved or spoken, “Either call Sarah right now and tell her that you’re with me, or tell me that I read too much into this, and we’re just a fling with no chance of a future together.”

Brendon had seen himself and Ryan growing old together, living in South Africa, taking advantage of the same-sex marriage legalization, adopting a dog or two, living in one of those cute houses by the beach, jamming with their guitars together at night around a bonfire, their feet in the sand; he could picture it all.  
But something inside of him had forced itself up his throat, and had hindered him from telling Ryan that.  
“Okay then,” Ryan had said softly and gotten out of bed.  
“Where are you going?” Brendon’s voice was equally small.  
“I can’t be around you, if I can’t be with you.”  
“Wait!”, Brendon had hurried out of the sheets and after Ryan. “Don’t do this to me!” he begged.  
“To you? Have you got any idea what this is doing to me?”  
Truthfully, Brendon hadn’t had a clue. He’d just known that his own chest was expanding, and everything else in him had felt incredibly small.  
“You can’t just leave me.” Brendon had pleaded.  
“Like you can’t leave Sarah?” Brendon had stared at Ryan, at loss of words. There had been something wrong with Ryan’s face, he’d noticed. He hadn’t known what it was, until a single tear had strolled down Ryan’s cheek.  
“Ry, baby, don’t cry.” He’d rushed over, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s thin frame.  
He had felt the shudder in Ryan’s body. Had felt his tears dropping onto Brendon’s shirt. Had heard the choking sounds coming out of Ryan’s stoic breathing. Still, Brendon couldn’t seem to articulate the words that would make everything better.  
“I’m leaving the band.” Ryan had whispered against his ear.  
“What?”  
“I’m not happy with the music. Jon and I, we both like the Pretty Odd sound. I didn’t want to leave Panic for it, but now, it seems like the best option to me.”  
It hadn’t even been a plausible option in Brendon’s mind. “What about Spence? You’re gonna leave him too?”  
Ryan had looked at him earnestly, “I trust you to take care of him.”

They had called a band meeting after that, and Jon and Ryan had explained themselves. Spencer had taking it well, too well; Brendon had his suspicion that Ryan had confided in Spencer, and everyone had known about the upcoming split, except for him. But whereas Spencer had remained calm, Brendon had thrown a fit, accusing Ryan and Jon of betrayal. Ryan couldn’t leave him, he just couldn’t. If he would quit the band, there would be no more shared hotel rooms, no more travelling the world together, no more of him kissing Ryan on stage. But that hadn’t been what Brendon had said. “You fucking assholes. We made a commitment to this band! We made it this far and you two want to just quit? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jon had been close to punching him at some point. Ryan had tugged on Spencer’s sleeve and the two of them had left. Jon had gone to pack his stuff for the flight, and Brendon had gone to a bar. 

*

“And then I went back to you.” Brendon concluded his story.  
Sarah shook her head. “Why did you even bother to marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to research a bit about what actually happened at Cape Town and match the dates and events with the story, but most of the stuff I found was pretty vague, so I decided to just loosely base the flashbacks on the true events and make up the rest instead.


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zack asked him. “I mean, a divorce is a pretty big deal.”  
“It’s the right thing to do,” Brendon said, sipping nervously on his Starbucks cup. “She’s not happy with me, I’m not happy with her, this whole marriage has become a fucking joke.”  
“But this has nothing to do with Ryan?”  
Brendon groaned out in frustration: “It’s got everything to do with him.”  
“No, what I mean is, that you won’t go back running to Sarah if Ryan gives you a pass.”  
Which was a very likely thing to happen, Brendon thought bitterly, his mind drifting to Drake, the boyfriend-stealing monster. “I still care about Sarah. If Ryan and I don’t work out, then I’ll just move on with my life. Sarah doesn’t need to get dragged through this any further.”  
“And you really think you can just ‘move on with your life?” Zac even used the air quotes, and sent him a calculating glance.  
“Of course I can. I’m a grown-up man, I can live by myself if I have to. And if not, I’ll adopt a cat, like you did,” Brendon teased him. Truth be told, Brendon knew that if Ryan rejected him, he’d be a wreck. He’d try to go back to Sarah, because Sarah was familiar, Sarah was his harbor whenever a shit storm of Ryan-feels was about to swarm over him.  
“Hey,” a familiar voice approached them. Dallon grabbed a chair from the nearest table and sat between them. “So, divorce, huh?”  
“Apparently,” Zack commented.  
Brendon nodded, “It just doesn’t work out anymore.”  
Dallon took a bite of his raspberry-lemon square, “So, who’s getting the dogs?”  
Brendon froze. He hadn’t thought about his babies.

“I want the dogs,” Brendon insisted as soon as he got back home.  
Sarah shook her head, “Not gonna happen.”  
“Sarah-,” he tried to reason, but his not-to-be wife cut in sharply:  
“They’re just as much your dogs as they are mine.”  
“Then what do you want to do?”  
“I don’t know! But,” Sarah hesitated, “You don’t have to move out immediately. We can just sleep in separate beds and figure it out when the time comes.”  
“Sure, that’s probably the best solution.”

Brendon was surprised, and slightly disappointed by the comfortability of the guest bed. He had always thought that guest bedrooms were suppose to be unpleasant, so the company wouldn’t be tempted to stay longer than strictly necessary, but Sarah must have thought differently when she decorated the room.  
He had successfully lured Penny-Lane into his room, but Boggart was nowhere to be found. Sarah had probably kidnapped him, to keep at least one dog away from Brendon.  
“I love you, Penny. I luv luv luv luv love you.” He told her and kissed her fur affectionately.  
His phone rang and Penny struggled out of his grip.  
“You made me lose my dog,” he informed whoever had called him, assuming it was Zack or Dallon.  
“Sorry,” Ryan apologized, and Brendon became overly conscious of how strong his heart was beating all of a sudden.  
“Dallon’s phone number is still registered in the Shelter, so I called him up, and he gave me your number,” Ryan explained, “Oh, it’s Ryan by the way,” he added quickly as an afterthought.  
“I know, I recognized your voice.”  
“Are we cool?” Ryan asked, and he sounded genuinely worried, “Because you just ran away the other day, and I figured it’s because we kind of rushed things, but then I talked to Dallon and he said that you definitely didn’t regret it and, well, I’m just confused right now, as to where we stand.”  
“What about Drake?”  
“Drake?”  
“I thought you two were dating,” Brendon said, and tried not to sound too hurt at the thought.  
“Dating? No, no, of course not. Drake and I, uhm, it’s complicated.”  
Code word for fuck buddies, Brendon thought bitterly.  
“Do you remember when we went to Maryland to record our first album, and stayed in this studio apartment?” Ryan asked him out of the blue, and of course Brendon remembered.  
They had lived in a one room basement apartment for five weeks straight. Ryan and Spencer had shared a bunk bed, and Brendon had shared one with Brent. It had probably been the most stressful and exhausting period of Brendon’s life. Most of their time was spent in the recording studio, and when they would go back to their apartment, they’d usually fall asleep right away.

*

“We’re out of Lucky Charms,” Brent complained one morning.  
“We’re out of luck too,” Ryan muttered frustrated, and ripped another page out of his notebook.  
“There’s no coffee either,” Brendon yawned.  
“Or milk,” Spencer chimed in.  
“Can I still eat the bread if it has black spots on it?”, Brent asked.  
“We need to go grocery shopping,” Spencer concluded, after hopelessly looking around the room for something edible.  
“Good, then go!”, Ryan groaned.  
“I’ll come with you,” Brent offered, eager to get some fresh air and get away from at least half the band.  
Brendon was alone with Ryan, who was still scribbling and scratching out words on a new page. Brendon would offer to help Ryan, but he’d tried that last night and Ryan had told him that a monkey could come up with better lyrics than Brendon.  
“God, I wish this room had a window, it stinks in here,” Brendon said, because the silence made him feel uncomfortable.  
“You stink,” Ryan retorted, not bothering to even look at him.  
“Did you write any new songs?” Brendon asked and stepped behind Ryan to read over his shoulder. He knew Ryan hadn’t, but Ryan had just insulted him. Brendon hadn’t grown up with four older siblings without learning how to provoke someone and pick a fight.  
“Working on it,” Ryan answered, eyes still focused on the notebook. “Can’t really concentrate when you won’t shut up.”  
“Hmm… maybe we should go to the zoo, y’know, see if the monkeys can help you out,” Brendon suggested in fake innocence.  
“Go shower. I meant it when I said you stink.”  
“So do you.” Brendon backfired.  
Ryan finally turned around and stared at Brendon. Annoyance was written all over his face. Brendon wondered if he himself looked as tired as Ryan, he must have; they’d been working like crazy, the last few days.  
“Fine,” Ryan said, after a solid minute of maintaining eye contact with him, “Then _I’ll_ go shower. And I’ll use up all the hot water.”  
Ryan stood up from the chair and started walking to the tiny bathroom. Brendon recalled, in horror, the last time he had been forced to wash himself in ice cold water.  
“I’m kidding, Ry! You smell lovely!” he shouted, “I’m serious. You smell like a field full of roses. You smell like a powdered up baby. No, wait, you’re like a candy cane on legs, ‘cause you smell so fresh and minty!”  
As Ryan passed the bunk beds, he picked up Spencer’s pillow and threw it at Brendon.  
“You missed,” Brendon said, even though he had to duck to avoid getting hit.  
Ryan grabbed Brent’s pillow and hurled it at Brendon’s face.  
“Maybe the monkeys can teach you how to throw too. Seeing as your aim is kind of off.” Brendon teased him, when Brent’s pillow flew an inch away from his face and landed on the floor.  
“Whatever, go work on the song, while I’m enjoying my hot, steamy shower,” Ryan flashed him an evil smile and disappeared into the bathroom.

A minute later, Brendon could hear Ryan’s loud, singing voice, that was off-key on purpose.  
“Ryan, shut up!” he hollered, but Ryan only chanted louder. Fucking hamster dance song, it would get stuck in Brendon’s head for the rest of the day.  
Brendon grabbed Brent’s unused cereal bowl and filled it with cold water. Revenge, he thought mischievously.  
There was no lock on the bathroom door, and Brendon made no sound when he sneaked inside. The room was sticky, and humid, Ryan hadn’t joked about using all the hot water. Fucking moron. Brendon tiptoed over Ryan’s carelessly tossed away clothes on the bathroom tiles and grabbed the stool next to the sink. He put the stool as close to the shower as possible, stood on it, reached out his arm holding the bowl, and tipped the ice water onto Ryan’s shampooed hair.

Ryan screamed. Brendon laughed uncontrollably.  
“Brendon you fucking asshole! You piece of shit! I will put itching powder into your pants and you will regret having such a huge fucking ass.”  
Brendon only giggled harder. “You scream like a girl,” he snorted. He stepped off the stool and put it back in its original place. He stared at Ryan’s clothes on the floor. He deserves it, Brendon reasoned, as he picked up each piece of clothing and collected all the towels and left the bathroom.  
Brendon waited impatiently for Ryan to finish his shower. On one hand, he really wanted to have Brent and Spencer in the room as witnesses, when it would happen, on the other hand, Spence and Brent wouldn’t be back anytime soon and he was eager to see his plan working and looked forward to the bitchfest Ryan would surely throw.  
Ten minutes later, Ryan started yelling insults at Brendon, that would get him kicked out of every Sunday Mass. Brendon chuckled and forced himself not to respond. Ryan would be stuck in the bathroom, until one of the other two band members felt enough pity to give him his clothes back. And seeing as Spencer and Brent still hadn’t come back, Ryan would have to wallow in the bathroom for a while.  
To his surprise, the bathroom door opened.  
“I could punch you right now,” Ryan gave him a death glare and walked to his bunk bed. Brendon stared. He’d seen Ryan shirtless. He’d seen Ryan in just his underwear, even. He had, however, not seen Ryan completely naked, with water dripping off of him, and smelling like the strawberry bath soap they kept in the shower. Well that was to say, until now he hadn’t.  
He watched as Ryan climbed up the short latter to get to the top mattress. Ryan’s butt was also very wet, he observed with a feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t quite describe. Then Brendon realized that this was his bed, and not Ryan’s.  
“Dude, that’s my fucking blanket,” Brendon informed him, when Ryan used _his_ sheet to dry off.  
Ryan purposely rubbed the blanket on his ass and balls first. Brendon grabbed the two pillows, that were still laying on the ground, and threw them at Ryan’s naked form.  
“I said that’s mine.”  
Ryan bent over to dry off his legs, and openly exposed his hole.  
“I jerked off on that blanket!” Brendon said, and felt his erection growing harder, the longer he stared at Ryan’s butt.  
“You see,” Ryan began and spun around to face Brendon, towel in his hand, no body part of his covered, “I normally jerk off in the shower, but some idiot poured cold water on me, and _that_ just ruined everything.”  
Brendon’s mouth felt too dry to respond. He was over his gay period. He should not be this attracted to Ryan.

He needed to get out of his pants.  
“Thanks for the tip,” he finally managed to say, sounding as calm and collected as he wished he felt on the inside. “I’m gonna go try that.”  
Brendon pulled of his sweatpants and took off his shirt. Nude, he made his way over to the bathroom. Ryan followed him, and once inside, shut the bathroom door behind them.  
“That’s not going to work,” Ryan told him, and for some reason his voice sounded even more sexual than usual. Brendon hadn’t even known such thing was possible.  
“Oh yeah? And why not?” Huh. His voice did the same thing.  
“Because I used all the hot water.” Ryan was standing incredibly close to him.  
“Then what am I going to do?” Brendon asked hoarsely, and found himself taking a step forward.  
Ryan kissed him. Soft and warm. He felt Ryan’s wet arm slip around his waist, pulling him in, until they were chest to chest. He could feel Ryan’s erection poking into his stomach. His own was throbbing. He opened his mouth, tasted Ryan’s tongue on his own.  
They heard footsteps from above.  
“We’d better get dressed,” Ryan murmured.

*

“You mean the kiss?” Present Brendon asked, and he heard Ryan giggle at the memory.  
“No. I mean, I’d be upset if you didn’t remember _that_.”  
Brendon smiled to himself. It had been a pretty good kiss. Especially since it had been their first.  
“I was talking about the night, when Spencer and Brent had to go back to the studio and we uhm…” Ryan trailed off and Brendon could see him blushing at the other line.

*

Brendon had been fast asleep in his bunk bed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.  
“Bren,” he heard Ryan’s whisper, closely to his ear.  
What do you want? Brendon opened his mouth to ask, but an incomprehensible grumble came out instead.  
“Talk,” Ryan said simply.  
“Ry, it’s like,” Brendon tried to look for an alarm clock to indicate the time, but then decided he didn’t care, “the middle of the night.”  
“I know.”  
“Then go to sleep,” Brendon murmured. He wasn’t sure why Ryan was sitting on his bed, but Brendon rolled over towards the wall to make space for Ryan to lay down beside him, just in case.  
His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could see Ryan staring at him. Brendon patted the empty side of the mattress.  
“Sleep,” he ordered, and moved the pillow, so they could both put their heads on it.  
Ryan laid down obediently, facing him.  
“What is it?” Brendon asked, confused when Ryan still wouldn’t close his bambi eyes.  
“You’re beautiful,” Ryan told him. It was too straight forward for normal Ryan, and Brendon realized something was wrong.  
“That’s not what’s bothering you, though.”  
Ryan sighed, “Sometimes I just don’t like being alone with my own thoughts.”  
“You’re not alone, Ry. I’m here,” Brendon’s arm automatically curled around Ryan, “I’ll always be here.”  
“You don’t know that for sure.”  
Brendon moved some hair out of Ryan’s face, “What’s on your mind that’s so bad it won’t let you sleep?”  
“I’m just- it’s stupid really,” Ryan answered. Brendon waited for him to continue, but Ryan said nothing more.  
“I’m not gonna judge you, Ry, whatever it is.” Brendon tried to reassure him. They hadn’t kissed since the bathroom incident, but Brendon risked giving Ryan a quick peck on his temple.  
“Aren’t you scared?” Ryan asked in a small voice.  
“Of what?”  
“That they won’t like us. I mean, what if we fail as a band? I can’t go back home if we do. I don’t know what I will do if it happens.”  
“Ry, hey, look at me. We’re not going to fail, okay? We’re going to become world famous rock stars, and we’re going to live in mansions with our own gigantic pools, and we’re going to be on every magazine cover, get played on every radio station, and we’re going to win thousands of awards and make millions of dollars, okay? But we won’t fail.”  
“But we could.”  
“Stop saying that! Pete fucking Wentz signed us, and if that’s not proof enough that we’re good, then I don’t know what is.”  
Ryan started to untangle himself from Brendon.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I need to fix some of the lyrics. They don’t sound right.”  
Brendon pulled Ryan back into his arms. “The lyrics are perfect, because you wrote them and you’re a goddamn genius, and the best writer I’ve ever met. So you’re going to go to sleep now, because otherwise I will continue to give you motivational speeches for the rest of the night and then my voice will be hoarse tomorrow and I won’t be able to sing, and then we really will sound like shit.”  
Ryan sighed and cuddled closer to him.  
“There’s a good boy,” Brendon smirked and kissed him, on the lips this time.  
Ryan returned the kiss and they made out lazily, both too exhausted and tired to take it any further.  
“Thank you,” Ryan said at some point to Brendon before they both fell asleep.

*

“You probably don’t even remember,” Ryan continued on the phone and Brendon was quickly brought back to the present.  
“Of course I do! But what’s that to do with anything?”  
“Well,” Ryan laughed shyly, “that’s kind of what Drake is. He helped me cope through a bunch of shit when no one else would, and we’ve, uhm, gotten pretty close over the years.”  
Brendon swallowed. Of course Ryan had. His mind produced images of Ryan and Drake doing all kinds of things a super couple would definitely do. He shouldn’t be jealous; he’d done all these things with Ryan too. Emphasis on done.  
“But we’re just friends, really, so you don’t have to run off next time he comes over, okay?” Ryan said and Brendon shook his head in confusion.  
“So you guys aren’t together?”, he clarified.  
“Nope.”  
Brendon laughed in relief, “Guess we’re both single and ready to mingle then, huh?”  
“Single? What about Sarah?”  
“We’re getting a divorce.”  
“Shit Bren,” Ryan gasped. “I would tell you I’m sorry to hear that, but fuck it, that’s the best news I’ve heard in years.”  
Brendon smiled somewhat bitterly. He still had to patch things up with Sarah. Coax her into giving him the dogs.  
“So, is it safe to assume you’re free Friday night?”  
“Friday? Hmmm…” Brendon pretended to ponder and Ryan snorted, “I mean, I was going to go out with this hot girl I met yesterday, but I guess I could cancel that if you have something better to offer.”  
“Well, first of all I have a penis,” Ryan began, “secondly, if you just met her, she probably has no idea where to take you, whereas _I_ know you much better, and lastly-“  
“Only three reasons? Ryan, that’s kind of sa-“  
“Thirdly, I’ve been on your dance card for-fucking-ever, so I think you should go on dates in order, starting with me.”  
Brendon could not help but laugh.  
“You know what?”, Ryan scoffed, “I could have a date with a lot of people this Friday, you should be lucky I even considered you!”  
“Yes, but I’m also cute and extremely hot and I will sing you pretty sonnets and I am manly enough that there won’t be any confusion over which one of us will be the girl.”  
“Well, you’re the one who can make the high heels work.”  
“And you’re the one-“  
“And,” Ryan continued, ignoring Brendon’s protest, “the one with the bubble butt and the higher voice and the plum lips.”  
“How are plum lips girly?”  
“Because they’re made to suck cock.”  
Brendon blushed involuntarily. “Whatever,” he said, “you moan and act like one.”  
“You mean I’m _delicate_ like one. Not to mention elegant and classy. Like a modern Marilyn Monroe.”  
Brendon groaned. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”  
“It’s a date,” Ryan’s grin practically traveled through the phone line, “I’ll even wear matching underwear.”  
“You’re not wearing a bra,” Brendon protested.  
“Not planning to.”  
Oh, Brendon realized, and started counting the hours until he would see Ryan again.  
 


	9. Chapter 9

_Epilogue ___

It was Friday night; six p.m. and Brendon was a ball of nerves. He had changed outfits twelve times. Showered three times. Styled his hair an infinite amount of times. He had no idea where Ryan would take him out to or any idea what to expect.   
Brendon glanced at the clock, wondering if he had enough time to change from his plain dark red shirt, to the black one. He was sure he’d made the right decision with the faded blue jeans. Ryan would most definitely wear black pants, and Brendon didn’t want their outfits to make them look like they were twinning.  
“Shit,” he exclaimed, realizing he had less than ten minutes to drive over to Ryan’s house.  
Brendon grabbed his wallet and keys, and sprinted outside to his car. He didn’t bother grabbing a jacket or hat. They lived in LA, how cold could it be in March anyway? 

“Sorry, I’m late.” Brendon apologized timidly as soon as Ryan opened the door for him. Ryan was wearing black pants, and a black leather jacket over his white shirt; just like Brendon had predicted he would.   
“That’s okay,” Ryan said and smiled. “So where are we going?”  
Brendon’s eyes widened, “I thought you would decide.”  
“I was going to, but then you said you’d pick me up, so I figured you wanted to choose a place.”  
“Well shit,” Brendon laughed. “Any preferences then?”  
Ryan suddenly had his arms around Brendon and pulled him closer. “Not really,” he murmured softly into Brendon’s ear. 

They ended up driving to the nearest pizzeria.   
“There are no parking spots left.” Brendon stated the obvious and slowed down, once they had passed the restaurant and its filled parking lot.  
“It’s amazing how you can live in LA for so many years, yet be completely oblivious to where things are located.” Ryan teased him.  
“LA is a big city!”  
“Yes,” Ryan nodded, “And big cities have built big areas for our big cars to park in, and one of them just happened to be right here.” He pointed out the window.  
Brendon scoffed, but couldn’t argue with Ryan, as he pulled into an empty spot.  
“It’s fucking cold outside,” He said instead. Ryan put his hand around Brendon’s waist, pulling him closer so they could share each other’s body heat.  
“Why didn’t you bring a jacket?”  
“I thought it would be warm outside,” Brendon admitted and he could see Ryan biting back a grin.  
They had to wait twenty minutes to get a table. Those twenty minutes Brendon spent very productively by telling Ryan all about the past few years of his life. As soon as they were seated and a waitress had taken their order, it was Ryan’s turn to tell Brendon what he’d been up to.  
“You didn’t,” Brendon chuckled in disbelief and Ryan blushed.  
“It was a dare; I didn’t have a choice.”  
Brendon busted out laughing and Ryan put his hands over his eyes to hide his face that was completely red with embarrassment.  
“And then what happened?” Brendon probed but Ryan shook his head and chewed on his pizza demonstratively.  
They talked more than they ate, and after their cold pizzas had finally been devoured, Brendon ordered desert for them both. He wasn’t hungry, but it gave him an excuse to stay and talk with Ryan a little longer. Brendon tried to think back to the time period when Ryan hadn’t been his life. How had he managed to cope? Ryan was this irreplaceable spark of happiness and now that Brendon knew what it was like to be without it, Brendon would cherish and value every single second he spent with Ryan. 

“Jesus fucking Christ it’s cold,” Brendon shivered when they left the pizzeria hours later. It was dark outside and tornado-like windy. Brendon wished they had parked closer. His car seemed too far away, he would probably freeze to death before he would get to it.  
“It’s nice and breezy,” Ryan argued and took in a deep breath of the night’s cold air.  
Brendon shook his head. Fuck Ryan and his warm jacket. Brendon would run to his car if he had to. Correction, Brendon did run to his car and turned the heater on as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat, while Ryan was taking his time outside in the arctic.  
“You’re in idiot,” Ryan told him as soon as he opened the car door.  
“Shut the door, you’re letting the cold air in!”  
Ryan did, and smirked at Brendon, “I closed the goddamn door.”  
Brendon had heard this joke so many times, he tended to get pissed off whenever somebody made it. But Ryan grinned at him so widely, Brendon couldn’t help but smile back.  
“Thanks for the date,” Brendon said, and his mouth must’ve gotten belatedly frozen because his lips were still stuck forming the word ‘date’.  
“Thank you for coming back to me,” Ryan mumbled shyly and quickly wrapped a hand around Brendon’s neck to pull him into a kiss.  
Ryan’s hand was predictably cold and Brendon felt the goosebumps prickling on his skin around the area. But instead of swatting his hand away, Brendon dealt with the shivers. He reached for Ryan’s other hand and entwined their fingers while their kiss deepened. It was as if a bunch of ice cubs had been thrown over Brendon’s body wherever Ryan was touching him. Though for once, Brendon didn’t complain. He would melt all the frigid layers off of Ryan and bring the sunshine back into his eyes. He had wasted so much time being mad at Ryan, Brendon was going to take the rest of his life undoing what he’d done wrong. He would love Ryan unconditionally, like he deserved.  
“Where are we going now?” Ryan asked softly against Brendon’s lips.  
“We’re going home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this story, commenting, and leaving kudos ❤


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